The X Effect
by Misused Muse
Summary: The whole thing interrupted a daily routine but here they were. Violet eyes bore into mahogany, and one phrase was murmured: "I want to date your little brother, and I demand your permission." Seems the wires got a bit crossed. AU. Thief & Death. DISCONT.
1. Prologue: You're In My Seat

**The X-Effect**

_He wasn't sure what exactly they were trying to accomplish by doing this. It interrupted a daily routine, a ritual, and threw them all for one demented loop— and yet, here they were. It had started as a mutual hatred, which somehow transpired into mutual neutrality. Now, it was far past that for not just one set of brothers. Violet eyes bore into mahogany, and one phrase was murmured: "I want to date your little brother, and I demand your permission." Seems the wires got a bit crossed._

- ThiefShipping: Yami Bakura x Malik -

- DeathShipping: Yami Mariku x Ryou -

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><p>Here it is, everyone. This is a fic that I've been having just too much fun with. Certain things bother me, such as my internal conflict with what to call Yami Marik. I decided on Mariku because "Marik" vs "Malik" is just too hard to decipher quickly when reading. So, yes! That's that!<p>

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in this story that is mentioned throughout this chapter or the following; all rights go to the respective creator(s).**

I still hope that's terribly obvious. Isn't it? Yes. Yes it is. Otherwise, why would I be here? This would all be canon. Obviously.

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><p><strong>Prologue: You're In My Seat<strong>

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><p>The day was about as typical as any other.<p>

He got up after knocking the alarm clock to the floor, took a shower, got dressed, and bitterly ignored his brother, rambling about the day lying ahead, beside him. It was normal, perfectly normal.

It got boring fast.

Breakfast didn't happen— the milk had gone sour seeing as the younger brother had forgotten about buying more and the cereal was stale. The bread was moldy and the freezer was empty. Eventually, out of options, the two ended up just skipping the meal after throwing out all the food that hadn't survived its expiration. They really needed to go shopping but the money just wasn't there at the moment. Maybe he could con a "friend" into loaning him some money for the groceries. Maybe.

The phone suddenly rang, striking him from his thoughts.

"Hello?" spoke the quiet and shy, but personable voice. "Yes, this is Ryou speaking… Oh, hello Yugi-kun! Are you on your way to school now? I was wondering… " The younger left the kitchen to go and gather his things while his brother stayed at the table moodily. His stomach grumbled but he pushed it off with a sigh, slumping in his seat. "Bakura-nii?" The addressed glanced to his little brother.

"What?" He grumbled snappishly.

Ryou didn't look bothered. "Are you ready to leave? Yami-san is going to give us a ride so we don't have to walk in the rain." He smiled, something that lit up his entire face. Bakura scoffed but didn't say anything on the subject in particular.

"Yeah." He stood up and pushed the chair in unceremoniously (an old habit he supposed) before grabbing his bag lazily off the table. "One day I'll have my own car, you know." He paused, then added: "Or at least a bloody bicycle for you."

"One day," Ryou agreed with another smile. He was used to his brother "dreaming" like that. He never stopped it nor really encouraged it— whatever kept the other going, he was okay with. It was rough but it was their life. The two brothers fell into silence and eventually a horn sounded outside.

Ryou pulled the curtain back, looking somewhat surprised. A dark red car was parked in the driveway, a tall and multi-colour haired boy sitting in the driver's seat. A boy similar in appearance was in the passenger, waving and grinning as he saw them from the window.

"They arrived sooner than I thought. Let's not keep them waiting," Ryou said with a smile, grabbing his coat as he opened the door. He waited for his brother, who sighed, before grudgingly following.

Ryou was sprinting to the car, bag over his head to keep the rain away, laughing as he got in. Bakura simply fast walked, not caring he was getting soaked.

He didn't really like hitching rides from the Mutou brothers.

"You look like a soaked cat, Bakura," came Yami's absent voice, smug and condescending as usual. He was older than them by one year and he flaunted it often— even though to most it meant little to nothing. Bakura scowled but didn't say a word. Yugi chided the driver, apologizing to his friend for his brother's behavior but the white-haired teen was still silent, glaring out the window. Ryou just laughed awkwardly.

School was boring.

It was just another routine. Bakura wasn't sure why but for some reason he really hated being in such a rut even though differentiating from it was something that felt almost awkward. A rut was rut, and he was stuck in it— although that was about to change as he walked into his first period class, Ryou in tow. Bakura refused to hang out with his little brother's friends (they were not his own; he had never been fond of the overly friendly troupe) on a daily occasion and Ryou, not wanting to abandon his brother usually, followed his twin to their shared first class. Only on Fridays did the younger white-haired teen stay with his friends, forcing Bakura to do the same. It was yet but another routine.

The class was usually empty seeing as most kids filtered in after the warning bell. After all, it was math— not many wanted to be there bright and early. Another routine.

Today? There was one sole boy (at least they thought it was a boy— he was in a boy's uniform after all) in the classroom. He didn't have his nose stuck into a book, but a pencil was carelessly in his hand with a notebook flipped open on the desk in front of him. Casually, he was slumped back in his seat, staring at the paper as if he was deep in thought.

It was then Bakura noticed something else. No, it wasn't the sun kissed tan skin, or the streaks of black under his eyes, or the platinum blond hair, or even the random jewelry that adorned him.

He was in Bakura's seat.

As if sensing the annoyance, Ryou shot his brother a look that said "don't do anything stupid" but the un-vocalized arrowed threat went right over Bakura's head completely. He strode over and a pale hand was slammed flat onto the desk, mahogany eyes glaring daggers but the face was blank. Slowly, stranger eyes trailed up the hand and to the owner's eyes. Piercing violet shot right through the brown-red, holding back no trace of annoyance or anger.

"May I help you?" came the bored voice of the blond being towered over by the other boy. Ryou was soon jogging over, worry spreading across his face. The boy in the desk didn't even acknowledge his presence.

Finally, Bakura spoke: "You're in my seat." The dark look he gave the new face hardened into the one he reserved for _certain_ people— it was one that even made teachers uncomfortable at times. Somehow, this evil and penetrating glare was completely ignored as it was returned in almost full-force.

"I was told there was no seating chart. Therefore, this is a classroom with desks based on a first-come, first-serve basis." The tone was smug. Condescending. Smart.

Bakura hated every bit of it.

"Listen, you little brat," he seethed but did his best to keep his composure. He was more known for his "cool but fierce attitude and demeanor" rather than the actual temper. He was violent and vengeful, by no stretch of the imagination was he not, but he tended to keep his fists as controlled as he could. He couldn't risk being suspended— again. Usually, anyway, his words were more than enough. "Just move. And let's get one thing straight…" he was suddenly leaning down towards the other's face menacingly, "to defy me is not a bright idea. It'd be in your best interest to move. Now."

"I hardly see a reason to be scared, if that's what you are insinuating."

How Bakura controlled the fury that suddenly coursed through him, Ryou (nor Bakura himself) would never know. Somehow he did, and the hand that was on the desk simply slid to knock the notebook off the desk roughly. Violet eyes clashed against mahogany. The eyes fought not only in colour, but also in silent words. Move, one pair said. Like hell, the other responded.

"What are you, four?" the boy continued smoothly. He broke the gaze to look down at his notebook before returning the aggravated eyes to the pale face near his. "Angry about a stupid seat."

Ryou finally found his voice, thrusting his arm in front of his twin to shove him back and away. He smiled at the tanned boy, who looked momentarily confused, as Bakura stumbled back and into the desk nearby, stunned briefly. He glowered darkly at his twin threateningly after recovering (how could he let his guard down like that?), but Ryou paid no mind. He smiled sweetly.

"I'm terribly sorry about my brother! Please, excuse him. He's not a very good morning person." Ryou paused, smiling falling a bit as he looked thoughtful. "Or a good person in general, really— _eep_!" The white-haired teen winced, nursing his arm that had just gotten punched by his twin. He whimpered: "'Kura-nii, don't hit me! This just proves you are not nice!"

"Let's keep it that way."

Ryou glared (none too threateningly, it looked more like a pout with those round fawn eyes of his), but stuck his hand out this time in a greeting towards the new boy. He smiled again, as if the miniature fight didn't just happen. "My name is Bakura Ryou. You must be new here? I haven't seen your face around."

The tanned hand was hesitant, but eventually it reached out and grasped the other boy's firmly in a hearty shake that honestly surprised Ryou a bit. The new boy smirked. "I'm Ishtar Malik." He retracted his hand as the other one absently scooped his notebook off the floor. "Yes, I'm new. I just moved here last week and transferred yesterday," he said without much thought. He closed the notebook and set his pencil on it. "Pleased to meet you, Bakura-san."

"Please just call me Ryou, if anything." The boy corrected with a laugh. "I'll get confused otherwise." Before Malik could respond, Ryou gestured to his brother, "This is my twin brother. He goes by Bakura. His— well, he might hit me if I tell you his first name."

Malik looked unfazed. He was good at that. "It's bound to come up in conversation later on, I'm sure." Violet eyes trailed to the clock in the upper right-hand corner of the room. The bell was about to ring to signal the warning bell, and 2 minutes to get into the class before it started. He scowled a bit. '_Where the hell is that idiot?_' he thought maliciously, before brushing the thought away. He returned his gaze to look at Ryou, who had sat down in the desk beside him. The boy beside him— Bakura, was it?— didn't move off the desk's top, despite his little brother attempting to place his books there.

Bakura's eyes hardened. "You're still in my desk."

"You do not give up with that, do you?" Malik drawled, slumping his cheek into his hand with boredom. "You're a bit annoying."

"_Me_?_ Annoying_? Tsk tsk, poor brat…" Bakura mocked, clicking his tongue a few times as he shook his head. "If anyone's annoying here, it's _you_, dear transfer student."

Malik only rolled his eyes and took the gaze right back to the more pleasant twin. "So, Ryou-san was it? It's nice to finally meet a _friendly_ face," he began, chuckling lightly. He ignored the irked look that crossed Bakura's face— he didn't like to be ignored. Ryou paid his brother no mind.

"Has your day been all right thus far?" He questioned with a cock of the head, "I realize it's early morning, but…" the white-haired boy trailed off with a laugh of his own. "Has it been a hard move?"

"Not particularly hard, just a mild adjustment. Although I can't say my day started off well, considering someone stole my bag." Malik explained, but instead of scowling he threw his head back with a hearty laugh. "I don't see getting it back, but at least I have my schedule if nothing else."

Ryou looked shocked. "O-oh my! What did he look like?" He had a sinking suspicion.

"Don't know. I was a bit too stunned to realize I was on the ground and missing the thing. Somewhat tall, though." Another laugh. "No harm no foul. I needed a new one anyone, I'd had that thing since I was 7." Malik shrugged.

"That's an old bag," the softer white-haired teen remarked with slight surprise but amused. "Say, if you don't mind me prying, where did you move from? You don't look like you're from anywhere around here." Ryou suddenly flushed, worried he had offended the other inadvertently as he quickly waved his hands defensively. "N-not that I think it's _strange_ or anything—!"

"Egypt," the boy said smoothly, cutting Ryou off, with a smile as he cocked his head a bit in his hand as if proud of the fact he was almost enticingly exotic. Ryou looked on in wonder, taking in the boy's appearance in a whole new light. It made much more sense now, if you counted out the light hair and eyes. Ryou, back when their father traveled, was often told stories of that country and he had never heard of anyone with such an odd look. Contacts and dye, perhaps? It'd be rude to ask.

Bakura snorted. He wasn't impressed.

"Wow, all the way from Egypt," Ryou finally gasped, looking completely intrigued. "That seems like it'd be terrifying! Your Japanese is perfect— I don't even hear an accent. How long have you been studying?"

Malik looked contemplative, tapping a finger to his lips. "Mm… Perhaps only a year or so." Ryou looked blown away. Malik raised a brow in curiosity. "What's that look for?"

"You… Only a _year_?" The white-haired boy repeated, jaw agape. "I can't believe that! You must be very diligent…" He paused, knuckle to his lips in thought. "Or Ishtar-san is very smart—"

"Tch!" Bakura cut his brother off, turning his head quickly to glare at the chalkboard. "I doubt that." Cold eyes returned to the tan boy's form, narrowing. "What was your rank, brat?"

Malik, still, looked unaffected. Actually, Ryou noted, he was acting like Bakura hadn't said anything besides the fact he clearly heard him. He was responding. "Ah, I was home-schooled. No rank. I did study very hard to perfect my Japanese, however. I was expected to do nothing less." He smiled in that same, nonchalant way. The warning bell finally rung and other students were starting to file in slowly. A few murmured as they walked in.

_'Who's the new kid?'_

_'He looks so dreamy…'_

_'Is he a friend of Ryou-kun?'_

_'He looks ready to get into a fight with Bakura-san…'_

_'Look at his smile! Wow, he's gorgeous!'_

Bakura tossed an absent glare over his shoulder, startling a few of the teens that had walked by. He scowled, looking forward, but the object of his current anger wasn't there. He raised a brow, and then suddenly a tan hand was waving in front of his face, the owner's face bearing a huge grin.

"Forgot, I lost my math book! I have to run to the office. I guess this means you win this petty spat today!" Malik laughed, being sure to announce the 'fight' as loudly as he could (inadvertently, of course). "Gosh, my first day and already I'm getting bullied." He winked, smirking deviously, before walking out after a brief "back in a bit, Ryou-san!"

Bakura just leaned there, confused, before he shook his head and took back his seat. What a weird kid. Was he bi-polar? The way he swung from one emotion to the next seemed to hint it. Dismissing the thought, the white-haired teen suddenly smirked in a feeling of pride. He ignored the few glares sent his way as he laced his fingers behind his head, leaning back comfortably. At least he got his desk back.

The bell to signal the start of the day rung a few minutes afterwards. The teacher forced everyone to cut the chatter and calm down, but as she took attendance she frowned, touching her pen to her lips.

"We're missing two people," she stated, glancing around the room. Her normal students were here, she saw no missing faces. Wait, hadn't there been a transfer? "Mm, perhaps that was it," she murmured to herself. Ryou's hand shyly rose. "Ah, yes Ryou-san?"

"Kumiko-sensei, we, uh, we have a new student," Ryou said quietly, blushing. He didn't like being called on but no one else would raise their hand, he was sure. "He, er, had to … uh … go get a new book from the office… His got s-stolen."

"Ah, I see. Thank you, Ryou-san."

She scribbled some things down, although the woman was still perplexed as to who else in the class could be missing. The sudden rap on the door struck her from her thoughts. She glanced over and waved in a "come here" motion, calling "come in!" as she did. The door opened and in stepped none other than the transfer student himself. Sort of.

Malik walked in without a word, scratching the back of his head as his face was in a dark expression. '_Seat, seat, seat… One's free in the back. That'd work_.' He ambled towards it without a word, and gave Ryou a strange look when the boy chirped a "welcome back" at him. Something was different, Ryou had to note with a frown.

Bakura glared at the Egyptian boy. The hair was spiky, rough, and stuck up in odd angles, which was vastly different than what his hair looked like before. Had he really gone to the office to get his book or was he styling his hair? Bakura frowned. It didn't make much sense, if any at all— although there was a math book on his desk.

"Ah, you must be Ishtar-san?" Ms. Kumiko began with a smile. The boy in question just crossed his arms, still scowling bitterly, and gave a curt nod. "Well, I would very much like to welcome you to—"

The door flew open again and in walked a very pissed off … Malik? The bottoms of his pants were soaked, as was the top of his jacket somehow, and in his hand he held a sopping wet bag. Under his arm: a book.

"Yo-you jerk!" He spat, pointing a finger shakily at the boy in the back— the one that looked so much like him. "Why did you t-throw my b-bag into the f-f-fountain outside!" Malik spluttered, red from both embarrassment and coldness. It was September; the air was incredibly crisp especially for someone from a warm place like Egypt. "I-if I've t-t-told you once, I've told you a m-m-million t-times! Stop t-taking my st-stuff! And d-damaging it too, c-c-come on! Ne-nee-san is going to ki-kill you! You're—" A sneeze. "You're paying f-for this!"

The Malik-look-a-like only threw his head back and laughed, leaning back in his chair casually. "You get pissed so easily, sheesh! Take a bottle, Princess," he replied easily, a malicious grin on his face.

The Egyptian at the front of the room fumed. "Pill! The phrase is 'take a chill pill,' you _moronic psychopath_!" Malik growled, before getting to the insult. "And stop. Calling. Me. _Princess_."

"Pill, bottle, whatever." The other boy just scoffed. "I'm rusty on my Japanese. Does it offend you, milady?"

"I will_ murder_ _you_ in your _sleep_."

"I'd love to see you try, my dear brother!"

Ms. Kumiko stared, dumbfounded. She looked in between the two boys before checking her attendance list again. Realization dawned. "Oh! The_ Ishtar twins_, yes, well, that would explain this now, wouldn't it?" She smiled as if completely unaffected by the screeching and squawking that just went on. Malik and— apparently— his twin snapped their gazes to her, both in equal irritation.

"Unfortunately!" They snapped in unison. A pause. Their eyes returned to the opposite twin. "… Stop th— OH RA!" Still in unison. "You— _gah_!" They gave up.

Malik stared at his twin for a moment, silently seeing who would speak first, before taking the initiative. "… Yes, we're the Ishtar twins," he murmured, rubbing his temple absently. "I'm Malik. He's Mariku… Our names aren't well adjusted to Japanese obviously," he added under his breath, although the teacher looked like she heard him. "They're spelled the same way, but Mariku can't write katakana for s… for the life of him." He absently corrected himself to not be vulgar.

If Mariku was going to argue, he didn't as he only shrugged. "It's true. My writing's crap."

"Well," Ms. Kumiko began with a laugh. "I'm sure I'll learn to distinguish you two apart very easily. Malik-san and Mariku-san, was it? Please feel free to take a seat, Malik-san, and we'll get started on class." The Egyptian murmured something she didn't catch before strolling to the only other open seat— one far away from his brother. He caught Ryou's eye but said nothing. The rest of class progressed without much distraction, until Ms. Kumiko suddenly decided that the two new students needed an introduction since she was done with her lessons for the day.

"So," she began with a smile as she closed her planner. "Why don't you two tell us something about yourselves?"

Mariku frowned, grunting. "Let's not."

His twin looked more put-off than irritated. "There's not much to tell, Kumiko-sensei," he said honestly, trying to be respectful but hint at the same time that he didn't really want to talk about it.

"Oh. Well…" Ms. Kumiko looked a little awkward, shifting her weight. After a moment, that same smile returned to her face as she clapped her hands together once. "How about you tell us where you're from—"

"Egypt," Mariku snapped shortly. "Specifically, Cairo."

"Any siblings?" The teacher continued, trying to keep the conversation going. The students could tell she was stretching a bit to provoke talking.

Mariku snorted. "1 and half." Before anyone could ask, the Egyptian just shook his head signaling he really didn't feel like explaining. "Counting out my _dearest_ twin of course…"

"Mariku!" Malik snapped, glaring at his brother from across the room as he planted his palms on the desk angrily. "Stop saying we only have half a brother, it's rude! He doesn't refer to us as such, it's only honourable to return the respect!"

A fake yawn emitted from the other Egyptian. Mariku leaned back in his seat, lacing his fingers together and clasping his hands behind his head. "Don't care. I've heard this speech more than I've stolen your stuff, brat."

Whatever Malik was about to snap in reply to his brother got cut off by Ms. Kumiko, hoping to avoid a fight. "Okay, perhaps that wasn't the best question to ask," She laughed awkwardly, clapping her hands once again, trying to divert the attention back to the front of the room. "Perhaps we will leave it at that. I hope you enjoy Japan and the school!"

They were left to talk.

Ryou made his way over to Malik, laughing and making absent conversation. Bakura hung irritably back, avoiding his brother and Malik entirely. He didn't notice the pair of violet eyes on him from the back of the room, watching his every move, before shutting in contemplation.

The bell rang. Ms. Kumiko absently bid the students goodbye as they filed out. The shout of his name ("_Mariku_! Come on, the bell sounded, we have to go!") brought him out of any thoughts he had as he stood up, smiling wanly, and followed his twin out the door.

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><p>I hope that was okay. I've been messing with this chapter like crazy, because I just couldn't decide on a good way to make it work. I settled with this, so hopefully you agree it's all right and everybody's remotely in character.<p>

Regardless: **Read & Review & Critique please!**


	2. Ch 1: Cloudy With a Chance of Rain

**The X-Effect**

- ThiefShipping: Yami Bakura x Malik -

- DeathShipping: Yami Mariku x Ryou -

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><p>Glad to see the fic is actually being enjoyed— I always get worried. Thanks everyone for reviewing and favouriting! It means a lot to me~<p>

I won't ramble too much more. Here's the next chapter, hope it's up to expectations!

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Cloudy With a Chance of Rain<strong>

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><p>"Ryou-san, where are you going next?" Malik asked while smiling at what might possibly be his new friend. "I have…" He checked his schedule. "History."<p>

"Aw," the white-haired boy remarked absently while he pursed his lips in a pout. "I have Chemistry, blocked. That's depressing, I was hoping we would have more classes together. What do you have fourth period? I'm in Literature."

Malik perked up a bit, smile widening. "Hey! Me too. With Harper-sensei?"

"Yes!" Ryou exclaimed, laughing. He would've clapped his hands together if he wasn't clutching his books to his chest. "Oh, good, we will have another class together! Ah, wait, you said you have history next?" He questioned, frowning a bit. "Bakura-nii is in that class, I think."

Tanned features fell into a scowl. "Great."

"… He's not too bad," Ryou pushed a bit, forcing a small smile. After a moment it became genuine, widening a bit when Malik looked at him in honest disbelief. "He's just a bit antisocial. Really, Bakura-nii is a good person… the walls he puts up, and the way he carries himself, just makes it seem like he's not. It's almost like a test." He hesitated for a moment before letting out a gentle chuckle. "I won't lie and say he'll warm up to you, though."

"I don't know if I particularly want him to," Malik admitted honestly, laughing in good nature. "You're more pleasant."

"Why thank you, I do my best." The boy paused. "Although I'm not being compared to much, here."

Malik laughed again, Ryou soon joining in, before waving a good-bye as they parted ways down the hallway. Mariku caught up with his brother, having been hanging back a bit. He pushed his twin's shoulder roughly but affectionately, offering a toothy grin. Malik just scowled at his brother and stuck his tongue out.

"Did you hear Ryou-san?" the younger Egyptian asked suddenly. Mariku looked momentarily thoughtful before shaking his head in a 'no.' "Well, apparently, his brother is in our next class."

Mariku's face turned into a scowl, one almost completely identical to the one his brother had given Ryou earlier. He had been told of that boy. "Joy, Mr. Cheerful himself."

"You two would probably get along."

"Somehow I doubt that," Mariku snorted, stuffing one hand into his pocket. His books were shoved under his other arm. "I think we'd end up fighting. I don't like that guy."

Malik sighed as they approached the classroom, walking in. "I don't either, brother, but at least attempt neutrality. I don't want to explain to Ryou-san why you killed his twin."

The elder twin barked a laugh, ruffling the other boy's hair. "Haha! You know no matter how much I'd_ like_ to, I could never get away with murder. Too hard to cover up."

"Rather, you're just messy."

A pause. "… Well, yeah, that too, I guess."

The twins sat down at two empty desks in the back, continue the idle chatter. Mostly it was Mariku pinpointing people already on his vendetta despite it only being first period (he kindly left Bakura out of it), and Malik adding in his occasional opinion (such as one black-haired somewhat tanned skin student thinking he was a girl— that caused Mariku to chuckle, eventually having to hide his face in his arms, head on the desk, he was laughing so hard). The two Egyptians didn't notice the students filing in as they chatted, except when the elder twin saw a flash of white hair.

Immediately, Mariku was at attention. Malik gasped, having a bad feeling his twin was going to do _something_ stupid (it was inevitable), and attempted to grab the other boy's sleeve. He missed miserably as his brother shot out of the desk and over to Bakura, who was sitting about two rows up. The pale teen looked up at the other boy, raising an eyebrow in subtle confusion— mostly, though, he looked irritated at being bothered. The Egyptian only smiled, although it lacked any sense of humour or actual amusement.

"Bakura, right?" Mariku began, leaning somewhat against the desk behind him and to the side of Bakura. The white-haired teen didn't get a chance to respond. "Just wanted to tell you something, hotshot." The smile turned into a grin— a malicious, evil thing with hidden anger. He leaned down a bit, in the other boy's face. "You do _not_ mess with my brother, unless you want to deal with _me_."

Bakura snorted. "At the risk of sounding like a child, he _did_ start it." He leaned back in his seat, taking his gaze to the book in his hand. Some sort of chapter book he had to read for literature. He got behind— surprise, surprise. "Your brother's not even worth my time— and so long as he stays out of my way, I won't go out of it to harass the brat. No promises. He seems to like treading on thin ice."

"Tch." Mariku scoffed, straightening back up. "Whatever you say. Just keep that in mind." The glare hardened. "I don't take lightly to people picking on him."

"Mariku! Get back over here!" Malik snapped from his desk, standing up with his palms splayed on the surface. He seemed more flustered than much else. "Stop poking the bear!"

The Egyptian looked over, annoyed, before it slowly turned to confusion, as the gears in his head seemed to visibly tick. "Wait," he started slowly, holding up a hand in a 'hold it' sort of gesture. "Don't poke the _cloud_? That doesn't sound right… Although…" He looked at Bakura's hair, silently musing. The mahogany-eyed teen turned his head to glare, not liking the "nickname" or the sudden staring. "Hmm…" He reached out to touch the other boy's hair, specifically the two 'wing-like' parts, and the hand was promptly smacked away with a snarl.

"Don't touch me," Bakura snapped.

Mariku scowled, holding his hands up defensively with an irritated pout. "Down, Fido. Sheesh. Protective of your hair, aren't we, cloud?"

The other Egyptian slapped a hand to his forehead, groaning. "Ku_ma_, not ku_mo_," Malik said slowly, enunciating the words impatiently. "Don't poke the _bear_. Not the _cloud_, that doesn't even make sense… You need to study more," the boy eventually announced irritability as he crossed his arms and blew a strand of hair out of his face, sitting back down. "Get over here."

"Stop bossin' me around, geez," the elder twin murmured bitterly, stuffing his hands into his pockets before shuffling over to his brother (though not without a glare cast in Bakura's direction first). Something was said in another language (which obviously irked Malik even further) as he sat down, slumped across his desk using his arms as a pillow like a pouting child. Bakura shook his head, sneering, before beginning to read again. He barely heard the bell ring and the teacher begin talking.

History went by slowly.

It couldn't be considered hell, Mariku mused, but it must have been _pretty_ damn close to it— maybe a floor or two above. Hell's attic, perhaps.

The twins ended up slightly lost in the lesson considering they transferred in at about the middle of the chapter, so Malik muttered to his brother how they'd have to do the rest on their own. They were expected to take the test next week, and do the project that was coming up soon after. Mariku probably would've been more pissed at that aspect had he actually been listening during class. Instead, he pretended to take notes when, in reality, he was writing a black list… or doodling— or both, really. Malik would glare at him, silently telling him to pay attention, but Mariku easily ignored him. He was too busy drawing grisly murders in his notebook or, if he felt like exerting no energy, ninja stick men.

When the bell finally rang, the twins parted ways. Malik hissed under his breath to his brother to '_behave_' and the other just laughed. He waved and that was the last Malik saw of him until lunch. The younger twin had gym next, which he was already dreading darkly. He was never the most athletic person around, and he hated changing in front of people. Could they wear long-sleeves? He hoped so.

Mariku was off to drawing. When he had told his brother he was taking it, the other couldn't help but be surprised ("Drawing, really?_ You_?"). Mariku was adamant though— he wanted to take it. Honestly, he really _did_ like drawing, although most of it was a stress-relieving sort of technique rather than anything really "artful" or tactful. He didn't tend to listen to orders already, so he had a feeling he'd be doing his own thing in the class and hoping that got him by. If it didn't, it didn't. He was at the point where he really just didn't care. He was okay with that.

Drawing was pretty boring. The blond ended up paying no attention at all since his teacher was just prattling on about the "colour wheel" and some nonsense about colours— basically, things that Mariku really didn't care about because… well, _he didn't care_. So some colours should never be put next to each other, big deal. He wondered how his little brother was handling, especially with gym. But his mild big-brother worry was forgotten as he went to chemistry for two more fun-filled periods.

Lunch was a welcomed period.

Malik met up with his brother at their locker and soon both discovered each had assumed the other was bringing their lunch— so they ended up with nothing and walked into the cafeteria hungry. No money, no food. Mariku muttered something about 'dying of starvation because of neglectful brothers' but his younger twin only rolled his eyes in exasperation. He'd survive. He promised.

Ryou waved them over to a nearby rectangular table, where he and a few others sat. One of them was Bakura, who was right next to his brother.

A blond sat there too, with two brunets sitting on each side of him. A black-haired boy sat across from the spiky-haired brunet, and next to him was a cheerful looking girl with a tri-colour haired boy sitting to her immediate right.

Malik instantly bristled at the one face— that one boy from earlier who had decided hitting on him was a good idea. That boy seemed to brighten up, grinning, and waved at him too as they walked over. The Egyptian immediately scowled as they approached. "Oh great. It's _you_," he murmured.

"Aw, come on now, don't be mad," the boy started with a laugh. "I'm sorry again 'bout that little mix-up. Please forgive me, babe?"

Mariku was at immediate defense. "Whoa, dude," he started, looking irritated, as he held a hand up. "You're hitting on my_ brother_."

"He's aware," the one brunet stated with a lazy grin. "Don't mind Otogi. You two are the new kids, right? I'm Honda." He stuck out his hand (specifically his left) and Malik brushed it off. Mariku just scratched the back of his head awkwardly, stuffing one hand into his pocket.

"Yeah. We are," the elder twin said.

Ryou jumped in, smiling. "Everyone, this is Mariku-san and his twin Malik-kun." He pointed to the farthest person from him: an annoyed looking brunet. "Over there is Kaiba-san. Next to him is Jounouchi-kun," he pointed to the blond. "And Honda-san just introduced himself." Now Ryou was pointing to the far end, opposite table. "The, er, one flirting with you is Otogi-san—"

"You can call me _sweetie~_ if you'd prefer."

"Let's not," Ryou continued seamlessly and ignored him pleasantly. "Next to Otogi-san is Anzu-chan, and right beside her is Yugi-kun." He smiled, happy the introductions were out of the way. "Sit down, please?"

Mariku eyed the black-haired boy (so dubbed "Otogi" … he'd remember that one, if none others) skeptically before sitting down across from Bakura. Malik sat to his left and next to Yugi. He smiled awkwardly at Ryou, the younger Egyptian looking and feeling a bit out of place.

"How has your first day been, you two?" The white-haired twin asked for conversation's sake, absently plopping a piece of fruit into his mouth.

"Explosive," the elder Egyptian said quickly, laughing at the look of shock that came over Malik's face.

"Oh gods _dammit_ Mariku, you did not!"

He scratched his cheek, looking upward innocently. "Sort of did."

"I thought I told you to _behave_," Malik seethed.

"Did you suddenly turn into nee-san?" Mariku snorted.

A stream of (angry) Egyptian-Arabic flooded out before Ryou coughed, drawing their attention back to him. The white-haired boy smiled awkwardly, sweat-dropping. "Er, well, it sounds like an, ah, eventful day on your part, Mariku-san… What about you, Malik-kun? You weren't in Literature, I was a bit worried…"

The Egyptian blushed, looking down at the table bashfully. "I… Yeah, I, uh, got sent to the office."

* * *

><p>Cliffhanger sort of— a bad one, regardless. Sorry! The original chapter 1 was <em>way <em>too long, so it had to get split off somewhere and unfortunately it was all sewn together a bit too well to really leave it off anywhere else.

**Read & Review & Critique please! **Any flames will be redirected to Mariku, who really wants to use his new flamethrower. But please, don't give him a reason to.

[sighs] I'm sleepy. I need a nap, I think… school's got me drained. I hate being a 12th grader sometimes! [curls up in blanket]


	3. Ch 2: Breaking Ground

**The X-Effect**

- ThiefShipping: Yami Bakura x Malik -

- DeathShipping: Yami Mariku x Ryou -

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><p>Here's the long (not) awaited chapter 2, here for your enjoyment! I decided to upload this a day or so earlier than planned. So, have the continuation to your supposed cliffhanger which will probably just disappoint you. But, do try and enjoy!<p>

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: Breaking Ground<strong>

* * *

><p>A stream of (angry) Egyptian-Arabic flooded out before Ryou coughed, drawing their attention back to him. The white-haired boy smiled awkwardly, sweat-dropping. "Er, well, it sounds like an, ah, eventful day on your part, Mariku-san… What about you, Malik-kun? You weren't in Literature, I was a bit worried…"<p>

The Egyptian blushed, looking down at the table bashfully. "I… Yeah, I, uh, got sent to the office."

Mariku whistled. "Whoa, little brother, I'm shocked. What did you _do_?"

"Nothing! I mean…" He huffed. "It's what I_ didn't_ do." He almost had a pouting face as he continued, irritated. "I refused to wear a t-shirt in Gym. I wanted to wear my long-sleeve. The teacher got mad and told me to wear short-sleeves and shorts, or else. I said no. So, then came the 'or else' threat: I got sent to the office."

Ryou frowned. "That's weird. Gym's the one place we don't really have much of a uniform code." He paused, silently wondering why the other didn't just wear the t-shirt but figured it wasn't his place to ask.

Bakura apparently did. "Stupid reason to be rebellious, why not just wear the bloody shirt?" He leaned his cheek in his hand, resting his elbow on the table. He was all for rebellion and ignoring teacher orders, but he never did it over really trivial things like that. If he did decide to be rebellious, he probably would've cut the sleeves off with a knife (right in front of them, he would've been sure) and gotten in trouble (read: suspended) for _that_ instead. "What, ashamed of your skinny ass arms or something?"

Malik was silent as he suddenly looked stone faced. After a moment, the look faded and he started laughing. Mariku, who had tensed beside him, slowly relaxed. "Not at all! My arms are gorgeous, thank you," he winked. "It's just too cold, here. I'm not used to it yet. Thin skin. I wouldn't do well in a t-shirt."

"Oh," Yugi remarked from beside him, "that makes sense. Yeah, you came from Egypt too, right?" Malik nodded. "I can imagine the temperature difference would take some getting used to."

"Mmhm." Malik leaned lazily in his hand. "Although the principle seemed to see it my way, once I explained the situation. Although the entire affair took all of fourth period."

"Nee-san's gonna be pissed," Mariku snickered, grinning. "That'll make me searing that kid's arm look like nothing, 'least _I_ didn't get sent to the office!"

The younger Egyptian shot up, shoving his brother angrily as the other started laughing. "Oh, shut up, you psycho! Nee-san _isn't_ going to find out!"

"Haha!" Mariku weakly swatted at his brother who was trying to hit him still. "Oh yes she will, I'm telling her that_ first thing_ when we get home!"

"Like _hell_!" Malik spat. "Not if I tell her that you threw my bag into the fountain-pond first!"

The elder twin spluttered. "_What_? You _better_ not tell her that, brat! I don't feel like cleaning the stupid house as punishment!"

Malik prodded his finger into his brother's chest angrily. "Well_ maybe_ you shouldn't have ruined my _math book_!"

"I will pay for your stupid book, okay?" Mariku snapped back, slapping away the hand. "Buy you a new one, sheesh!"

Malik didn't look pleased at all. The glare hardened. "Yeah, by _selling my possessions_."

"Oh, that was _one time_!"

"_No it wasn't_!"

Ryou glanced in between the twins, eyes shifting from one to the other as they bickered. He forced an awkward laugh, holding up his hands to try and get their attention. "Uhm, guys? P-please don't fight—" he attempted to talk over their spat, but the two Egyptians didn't even remotely hear him.

"You always do this!" Malik snapped. "I get sick of all your teasing! Like I didn't get enough of that back home!"

Mariku snorted, folding his arms and turning away. "I'm your brother, it's my _job_ to harass you."

"Well then! My job from now on is to make your life _living hell_," the younger boy seethed before, like Mariku, he crossed his arms and turned away.

Ryou, finally able to get a word in edge wise, forced another laugh. "O-okay then. So it seems the day was… eventful!" He put his fork complete with a piece of melon into his mouth, sweat-dropping. Bakura rubbed his temple, which was beginning to ache.

Yugi sweat-dropped, laughing a bit himself. "Well, nice to see you two get along."

Malik cast a glare over his shoulder and at his brother's head, huffing, before looking back to Yugi. "Swimmingly." He paused for a moment, seeming to think hard about something. "Yugi-san, was it?" A nod. "You look familiar. You happen to have a sibling?"

"Oh! Yes," Yugi nodded with a bright smile. "My older brother, Yami Mutou. You've seen him?"

Malik nodded. "Yeah, he's in my Psychology class… I didn't think much of it then, but when I saw you I knew you were similar."

Yugi laughed. "People actually confuse us a bit, though I'm not sure how. He's taller, though. Maybe it's our hair." **(1)**

From the other side of Malik, Mariku snorted. Malik turned around (well, more so sat forward at the table) to look at him. The elder twin had turned as well to look at his twin, and was pouting. "Speaking of that!" Mariku began, holding up one finger. "People keep mixing us up already, Mal!"

"Oh, really?" Malik drawled, not really too shocked at the news. "I just _can't_ imagine _why_. I mean, we're_ only_ identical _twins_."

Mariku looked surprised for a moment before scowling. "Shut up. I mean, come on, we are distinctly different. I'm _much_ more handsome."

"… You look the _same_ as me, dear brother, we're _identical_."

"Yeah, well, my hair's nicer."

"Now_ that_ is debatable."

They glared at each other for a minute before Mariku burst out laughing. He ruffled his twin's hair roughly but affectionately and grinned. Something Ryou didn't understand passed through them— he could tell by their eyes— but then that moment was broken as Mariku loudly announced: "Nope! My hair is softer. Little brother, yours feels like a mess of twigs."

"… Yours_ looks_ like a mess of twigs!" Malik retorted, slapping his brother's hand away. "You prick. At least all I have to do in the morning is comb my hair, no gel involved…" Mariku snapped something about 'if I _didn't_, no one really could tell us apart!' but Malik only ignored him, starting to chat with Ryou again. "Ryou-kun!" He chirped, smiling. "What else do you have for the day?"

"Oh!" The white-haired boy looked momentarily surprised to be addressed but recovered quickly and smiled lightly back. "I have history, painting class, and then band…"

"Ah! So, a music class and painting? That's neat," Malik commented, nodding.

"You paint?" Mariku suddenly piped up, looking almost intrigued. "Huh. Are you good?"

Ryou blushed, looking flustered. "Oh, uh, well, I… I wouldn't say _good_, per say, I'm no Kuroda Seiki **(2)**, but, er, I'm okay at it?" He sounded hesitant.

The answer seemed good enough to Mariku though, who nodded as he took the information in. He fell silent, so Malik took the wheel. "I have French next," he stated. "I'm sort of excited, although I might be a bit lost in the lesson. I have chemistry right after that."

Bakura stiffened at that, staring at the boy with a distasteful look. "Eighth and ninth period chemistry?" He murmured rhetorically. Malik gave him a questioning gaze, but Bakura just shook his head with a sigh. "Great."

"He's in chemistry that period, too," Ryou explained with a chuckle. "He sounds excited." He gave his brother a not-so-subtle elbow to the side. The sweeter twin's smile never fell. "In fact, because of his excitement, I volunteer him to be your partner." He clapped his hands together once, laughing. "Kura-nii complains often about getting stuck with random people."

Bakura was bristling beside him, casting a dark glare in Ryou's direction. "I _prefer_ to work_ alone_," he hissed. "I'd rather not be stuck with the brat at all." He took his eyes to Malik, the glower darkening, but the Egyptian only shrugged.

"I'd rather not work with you either, but if it works that way I can't really do much about it." Malik lazily closed his eyes for a moment. "Sorry about your luck," he remarked as he opened his eyes again.

"Hmph," Bakura grunted, frowning. "Well, now chemistry will be an entirely new two periods of hell if I have to deal with you."

"Likewise." Violet eyes grew cold but somehow held an air of amusement. After a moment, that was all Bakura could see as the blond smirked. Tristan, who had been talking to the other half of the table up until this point, tuned in with a laugh.

"Well," he began, "sounds like you two got off on the right foot," he joked sarcastically. "Enemies already?"

The blond— Jounouchi, was it?— started to laugh. Mariku mentally noted it was one of the most annoying sounds he'd ever heard. "Does Bakura ever make _friends_?"

The boy in question only rolled his eyes, sneering. Ryou sweat-dropped, but said nothing. Technically, it was true. Had his brother ever really had someone he could call a "friend"? He barely had acquaintances. Honestly, Jounouchi had a very valid point, and that was a rare occurrence in itself. Bakura didn't make "friends"— he made enemies, foes, and rivals.

"Well, guys, he's our friend even if we're not his," Yugi input cheerfully. Mariku raised an eyebrow at the optimism and Ryou laughed a bit. The sound caught Mariku's attention, looking at him with the same confused expression. Ryou didn't notice, but Bakura did— he glared, a silent message passing between them. The Egyptian looked away with a swish of his head, deciding to find another point of focus. No one else around seemed interesting to him. He slumped, leaning his elbow on the table and setting his cheek in his hand. How boring.

He heard his brother prattling on to Ryou about some class, and Ryou would respond happily. Occasionally, he'd try and drag Bakura into the conversation but the other twin would either give a short and unsatisfactory response or none at all.

Mariku felt his eyelids grow heavy. He was sort of sleepy, and trying to comprehend Japanese all day was really making his brain work overtime. He and his siblings still spoke Egyptian-Arabic back home, although the entire walk to school was a Japanese conversation. They were trying to practice and hide their accents.

He wondered sometimes why they bothered to try and hide the slight differences of pronunciation, seeing as it was painfully obvious they were _not_ Japanese. At all. It was really clear from their sandy blond hair to their violet eyes to their dark tanned skin. Positively nothing screamed Asian.

Mariku decided not to dwell on it. He opened his eyes (apparently he'd closed them during deep thought) and glanced over to his brother. The bell had rung, so the group was getting up to leave. What did he have next again? He took out a crumpled piece of paper from his back pocket and squinted in an attempt to decipher his handwriting (Katakana was slowly turning into one of his new found enemies). He narrowly avoided crashing into people as he walked, still trying to read.

"I-Ishtar-san!" Ryou suddenly squeaked. "Watch out!"

_WHAM._

… Although he did not avoid walls.

The Egyptian twitched, backing up and rubbing his nose. "… Yeah, that thing came out of _nowhere_. Jumped right out in front of me!" He was suddenly pointing (paper still in hand) dramatically at the wall. "You're like a fucking ninja! I declare a battle, fair wall!"

Malik deadpanned. "Hey. _Hey_," he called, attempting to catch his moronic brother's attention. "Psychopath. You're holding a conversation with plaster and bricks. You're aware of that, right?"

"… Holy hell! By Ra, you're _right_!" Mariku cupped his chin, now looking contemplative— exaggeratedly so. "An astounding observation! A wall made of _bricks_, who ever would've _thought_. Clever deduction, Watson!"

"_Excuse_ me?"

Ryou was giggling, hand covering his mouth. "Malik-kun, I didn't think your brother was so … silly," he admitted with another laugh.

Malik snorted. "_Stupid_ is more like it— or over-dramatic. Take your pick." He eyed his brother to make sure he didn't actually hit his head (brain-damage would be hard to explain to their siblings) before starting to walk out of the cafeteria. Ryou followed with Mariku right beside him and Bakura skulking on the other side.

Mariku seemed fine though, as he finally figured out his handwriting with a triumphant 'got it!' soon following. Malik looked at him like he was insane before rolling his eyes. "See you, 'Riku." He waved and was off up the stairs to French class.

"Yup, see ya Mal," his twin called after him with a wave. Eventually, he had to part ways with the Bakura twins (which sounded so funny in his head, seeing as Bakura was… well, _called_ Bakura instead of his first name that he still didn't know of yet). He had gym next. Wandering the hallway, gym bag slung over his shoulder, he found the gymnasium after standing there, staring angrily at the katakana sign (still an enemy) for a minute. He trudged into the locker room and hoped that not many people would be in there.

Luckily, no one was. Mariku sighed in relief, pulling his shirt off and changing as quick as he could. He just pulled his pants up and was tying the waist string when he was met with a familiar face plodding down the locker room steps. Bakura was staring at him with an almost confused but irritated face. Mariku smirked. "Hey, Cloudy 'Kura! We meet again."

Pale features fell into a scowl. "You two are way more trouble than you're worth," he murmured bitterly, almost tempted to murder the other boy for the newly founded nickname. He decided it just wasn't worth the jail-time. He skulked to his locker and grabbed his clothes out, casting an unwary look to Mariku as he did. "Long-sleeves?"

"Uh-huh." Mariku crossed his arms, more so nonchalantly than in a means of confrontation, and leaned against the wall. He watched Bakura pull off his shirt, but looked away after a moment. He glanced over to the locker room entrance, thinking. "What's the class like? We never did PE. Is it strenuous?"

"Depends on how in shape you are," Bakura replied absently as he tugged his blue t-shirt on, soon enough pulling on his black pants too. He pulled out a hair-tie and actually tied his hair back into a low ponytail. Mariku frowned, looking either disproving or confused. Bakura couldn't tell. "… What?"

"You tie your hair back?" Mariku asked slowly. He was curious; now Bakura could place that emotion he saw in the Egyptian's face.

"Have to. It's dress code," he replied simply.

"Oh."

"Yeah." Bakura motioned absently for the boy to follow along as he exited the locker room. "I bet your little sister has to tie it back, too." He smirked and burst into coarse laughter when Mariku growled at him, prodding the other teen in the chest.

"Oy! So he's kind of feminine, leave him be," he snapped defensively. " … At least his hair doesn't reach his back!"

"What? Hey!"

Bakura growled but Mariku just started laughing as they walked around the gymnasium. Shockingly, Bakura discovered that they were pretty similar. Little brother couldn't handle himself. Everyone around them was a moron. No hesitation to throw a punch existed, because violence solved (almost) every problem. Video games were awesome, and bloody gory movies were the best things ever invented in cinema. Debate was held over the number one horror movie, but other than that Mariku and Bakura _both_ were surprised at how well they actually got along.

They teamed up during gym when the teacher decided to have them play basketball and utterly annihilated the other group they were against. Mariku got yelled at for hitting a kid in the face (once with the ball and once with his elbow), although he argued vehemently it was on accident. Bakura was just laughing his ass off until Mariku threw the ball in _his_ face. How he managed to avoid detention, neither were sure.

Gym ended pretty fast. Bakura ignored all the other boys as he changed, but Malik seemed to hesitate. He would look at the faces of the others, watching as they filtered out to wait for the bell, and would just tug at his shirt collar every now and then.

"Are you going to change?"

Bakura's voice brought Mariku out of his stupor. Glancing over, he smirked. "Why? Want to see my chest?"

An eye roll. It was then the Egyptian noticed the white-haired boy was already changed into his uniform again. "Hardly… But if you keep standing there, the bell will ring and you'll end up late."

"I don't really care for punctuality, and I never thought I'd hear the lecture about it from you," Mariku admitted honestly, crossing his arms. His eyes trailed across the locker room, still occupied by a few lingering boys. They were taking too long for his liking.

"Just change, will you?" Bakura finally grunted, leaning on the lockers. "I'm beginning to wonder if you have as many insecurities as your brother."

Mariku glared. "Shut up." He noticed that, finally, almost everyone had filtered out. He grabbed his clothes and, to Bakura's surprised, walked over to a protruding wall (leading back to the showers, which were rarely ever used anyway) and slid behind it. Bakura couldn't see him. The Egyptian's shirt was tossed out after a moment, causing Bakura to raise his eyebrow, before pants followed and then so did a changed Mariku. He scooped the somewhat sweaty clothes up and shoved them into his locker. The bell rang just as he set his lock. "Perfect timing."

"This better not be a daily occurrence," Bakura remarked as they strode up the stairs and out of the locker room. "What are you going to do when it starts getting warmer here? You'll end up with a heat-stroke, you moron."

"Nah." Mariku glanced at the piece of paper in his hand again before shoving it into his pocket again. "I'm good up until about 42° C, then I start getting out of it." He nodded a few times. "Anyway. I'm off to study hall. Try not to kill my little brother, you hear? Otherwise I'll have to kill you!" He grinned (only half-joking), waving, and was soon strolling off in the other direction. Bakura grunted something about 'no promises' and started towards the Tech Wing.

Chemistry was going to be _hell._

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><p><strong>AUTHOR NOTES:<strong>

**(1) **He's older, so he's taller in this (deal with it). How _much_ taller is up to you, but I'd picture him probably a hair taller than Bakura (just enough to hang it over his head, gloating).

**(2) **A Japanese painter. He's the one who introduced the impressionism movement into Japan.

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><p>Hopefully a bit longer for you! The relationships between friends are finally starting to develop, yes~ ? I have so much fun writing Mariku, he's such a silly moron. Although I can't wait to get to his less-than-pleasurable personality traits. That will come later, however.<p>

**Read & Review & Critique please!**


	4. Ch 3: Mixing the Elements

**The X-Effect**

- ThiefShipping: Yami Bakura x Malik -

- DeathShipping: Yami Mariku x Ryou -

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><p>I'm… incredibly tired. I'm somewhat nervous about this chapter but I'm not really sure why— maybe because I'm finally working in the friendship? Or maybe it's just because I'm always nervous when posting things I wrote. Anyway, I'll cut to the chase.<p>

Thanks again to the lot of you reviewing, and even those simply reading but saying nothing. I don't mind, because I'm notoriously quiet myself despite always replying— I'm grateful for the views, favourites, and alerts! Now, I won't ramble any further...

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><p><strong>Chapter 3: Mixing the Elements<strong>

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><p>Although Malik had thought it was hell, Bakura (to his own surprise, despite never allowing himself to admit it) felt otherwise by the end of class.<p>

It started out like it, though.

When Bakura walked in, Malik was already at his desk— not Malik's desk, _his_ desk. _Bakura's_ desk. He narrowed his eyes tiredly, walking up and setting his books down on the empty side of the desk. "Really?" He murmured, gesturing vaguely to the seat. "You're not only my partner, you're also _still_ in my seat?" The Egyptian glared up at him, but just shook his head.

"If I had a choice, I _wouldn't_ sit next to you," he retorted. "The teacher decided we'll be partners, and he's vehement on not altering the seating chart." Violet eyes went to the desk, focusing on the notes he was given. "Looks like I'm stuck with you."

"Great. Likewise. Now move."

Malik rolled his eyes and scooted to the seat on his immediate right. No use in arguing.

There was something with that boy. Bakura wasn't sure exactly what it was as he sat down, irritably pulling out his chair. He fiddled with his pencil, leaning his elbow on the desk with his hand cradling his cheek. But he soon noticed his mahogany eyes kept stealing glances at Malik. There was just _something_ about him. He wasn't sure why, but it made him _curious_. Malik, despite his less than appealing attitude, was interesting. Perhaps that was it: he was _interesting_. From his dark skin to his bright blonde hair, Malik was _interesting_— although, he was also unpredictable in addition. As the period progressed, Bakura started to grow more and more positive that the boy must've been bipolar. It was either that, or he was secretly a girl and he was _damn_ good at hiding it.

He figured the former was more logical (though the latter would've been hilarious).

They prepared for a lab the first period, their teacher rambling on about what to and not do during the experiments. He continually went back to his points of '_be sure to fill out the worksheet packet as you work_' and to '_never mix the wrong chemicals because _someone_ in fourth-fifth did that and they blew up the lab and that trouble-maker's partner has second-degree burn on his arm now from it so do it and you're in for it_.' He was glaring half-heartedly in a certain Egyptian's direction for that one.

Malik died a little inside upon noticing, slamming his head to the desk. He muttered in weak Japanese about how his brother's already forming reputation was going to ruin his non-existent one but Bakura paid little mind. He was absently staring off out the window, trying to figure out his sudden interest in the shrill-voiced feminine-looking boy beside him. Eventually, he settled on the fact that Malik was interesting only because he was different from everyone else he had met, from the personality down to his appearance. Mind somewhat at ease, he felt a little more concentrated as the teacher passed out the materials and they begun their lab.

Malik was staring at the chemicals with a frown. At Bakura's taunting smirk and snide remark of: "What, _afraid_ you'll_ screw up_ like your brother?" the Egyptian was quickly bristling and ready to go. They _did_ end up screwing up a few times throughout the lab (sometimes Malik's fault, sometimes Bakura's), but it got done and it got done well enough they deemed it "passing."

They didn't talk much throughout the lab, causing a few awkward silences here or there.

It wasn't only Bakura who had trouble concentrating— Malik did as well, although he was much more subtle about it. His thoughts kept drifting to his partner, though the mindset was vastly different than the other teen's had been. He was mulling over how irritatingly _rude_ Bakura was. He was arrogant, crass, sarcastic and a bit of a bully; basically, he was a pale skin white-haired version of his brother, if he thought about it. It bothered him because that meant if his brother and Bakura ended up being friends, _something_ bad would happen and it'd be one big ass dose of hell. Mariku was an idiot like that. A blind leader and a blind follower if that made any sense— he didn't think _anything_ through. That was what made him honest, though, and sometimes even vaguely amusing— Malik would never tell him that, however.

He went back to filling out the lab packet, not noticing the brown-red eyes that kept flicking over to him as he wrote.

_(-)_

Speaking of Mariku, said Egyptian was currently carving lines into his desk in Study Hall with his pen. He was, needless to say, bored to death. Huffing, he glanced at the clock with half-lidded eyes. Maybe he'd go to the drawing room. It was better than sitting here, chucking pieces of paper at the kids in front of him.

He signed out without waiting for any permission (not like the teacher seemed to notice anyway as she went on reading her book) and started down the hallway, absently strolling to the art room. He didn't expect to walk in and see an entire class in there, and painting none the less.

'_Wait_…' he mused to himself, glancing around the room none too shyly. '_Didn't Ryou say he was in painting?_'

As if reading his mind, a voice suddenly piped up. "Ishtar-san!" Ryou chirped, smiling as he peered out from behind a canvas. He was completely hidden behind it otherwise. "I didn't expect to see you. What are you doing in here?"

Mariku shrugged, scratching the back of his head. "Got bored in study hall, so I thought I'd come down to the drawing room to work on my project or something…" He trailed off, noticing the teacher was staring at him. He raised an eyebrow but his teacher only smiled and gestured to the back of the room. His paper was over there.

Ryou continued to paint, stealing glances at Mariku as he dug through the rest of his classes' drawings to find his own. Fawn eyes tried to stay as concentrated as they could on his work, but he found it hard especially as the Egyptian wandered back over with his drawing in hand. Ryou was wondering why, until he remembered no one sat next to him.

"Mind if I sit next to you?" Mariku asked absently, setting his paper down without waiting for an answer. The English boy didn't mind anyway, shaking his head with a smile.

"No, go right ahead."

Mariku sat down at that and attempted a few lines of sketching on his paper before he found himself completely distracted, violet eyes looking over to the canvas that Ryou was focused on— and Ryou himself. The white-haired boy had taken off his school jacket and threw a messy white apron on over top of his clothes. His hair was tied back into a low and loose ponytail and despite being careful, he had already managed to get some paint on his cheek, the apron, and a bit in his hair. Mariku stared, in a daze, before someone behind them dropped a palette, which caused him to snap out of it.

"What are you painting?" Mariku finally asked, curiously leaning back to see. "Fruit?"

Ryou chuckled. "Sort of. It's some sort of surreal and malformed world." He pointed with the end of the brush to the corner of his piece, where a bright orange was taking shape. "It's underwater."

"Is…" Mariku squinted, getting up to peer over Ryou's shoulder. "Is that a banana and an eel?"

The white-haired boy started laughing. "Well, when you word it _that_ way, I suppose it sounds silly," he admitted, grinning, "but yes, it's an eel."

"Eel banana. Interesting." He paused. "So is it a Baneel or a Eelana?"

"Whichever you prefer," Ryou giggled. "Both are silly names." He smiled, looking back to his canvas and continuing to paint. "What are you drawing, Ishtar-san?"

"Hn." Mariku grunted, slinking back into his seat and staring down angrily at the paper. "I don't really know. I'm just sort of adding lines and hoping that it goes somewhere."

Ryou leaned back from his canvas to see. The paper was a mess of graphite and smudges, lines going in every which way but somehow the young teen was able to make something out of it— it almost looked like a scene of war, but only one person was present in the midst of all the chaos. _Was_ it a person? It seemed to be, but Ryou didn't want to assume, although Mariku would likely not be offended if it weren't. He decided to take a plunge.

"That person… Is that anyone in particular?" He asked cautiously, pointing a delicate finger to the mess of lines possibly resembling someone.

"Oh." Mariku's eyes seemed to light up a bit. "You can tell? Yeah. I guess it is someone." He added a few lines absently to the clothes of the person, frowning almost contemplatively. "I don't know who exactly he is, though."

"It's good."

Mariku suddenly looked confused. He took his eyes from the drawing to look at Ryou, who had focused his attention back on his painting and was mixing colours absently. "This? The drawing?"

"Yes." Ryou nodded, but his eyes never left his palette. "You're a very good artist."

"I don't think so, but…" Mariku trailed off awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. He felt his cheeks heat up just a bit. Was he _blushing_? Probably just from embarrassment. "Thanks anyway," he added quickly, lowering his head so his bangs fell in his face. He was hoping to hide the slight pink that was crawling over his face, but Ryou didn't even seem to detect it. He was intently painting now.

Mariku couldn't help but notice: he looked, dare he say, _cute_ (in a sort of 'teddy bear' kind, he supposed, which didn't really suit him but hey) when he was concentrating so hard. The brown fawn-like eyes were almost glazed over in pure focus, mouth thin and face blank— but at the same time, it was obvious he was enjoying what he was doing. There was a spark in his eyes as he put strokes to the canvas, splashing colour into a surreal world only he truly understood. Was it really just "cute" in an endearing manner or…

Mariku shook his head a few times, as if the thoughts would shoot out if he did, before starting to vigorously scribble onto the paper. He had his cheek and mouth hidden in his hand as he leaned his elbow on the table, trying to rid the blush that was accumulating on his cheeks again. He didn't end up talking to Ryou much because their teacher (who taught both drawing and painting) had wandered over to see their progress. He spoke a little to Ryou, offering advice (that the Egyptian honestly thought Ryou was better off without, but whatever), before turning to Mariku.

"How are you doing, Ishtar-san?" Mr. Saato asked, leaning on the desk to peer over the Egyptian's shoulder. "Looks like you're off to a good start."

"I guess." Mariku fell silent again.

It seemed Mr. Saato wasn't pleased with the short answer for he pointed to the drawing and smiled. "So, what is the theme?"

'_Does it seriously need one_—' "Family," the Egyptian replied without missing a beat.

The teacher was the one to fall silent this time. He stared at the picture, in thought, as he frowned. "Family?" He repeated, trying to hide the skepticism in his voice. There seemed to be only one person there, and the entire thing was a convoluted mess of chaos and almost war-like area. Was this the boy's actual perception? It'd be scary to think it. "… I see. Well, continue what you were doing. It looks good. Keep an eye to the clock."

Mariku only nodded, continuing to add lines as the teacher finally wandered over to a different student. The Egyptian paused, feeling the burning sensation of someone staring before he glanced to Ryou, who was looking at him with a frown. Mariku raised an eyebrow as he caught his gaze. "What?"

"… Is that really the theme?" The English boy asked carefully with hesitation in his voice.

"Nah," Mariku smirked devilishly. "I just said the first thing that came to mind."

"Oh." Ryou paused before letting out a sigh. "That's good."

"Eh?" the blond raised his eyebrow again, looking confused. "Good? Why is that good?" he asked slowly, turning around to face the white-haired teen better. Ryou smiled a bit, but returned his eyes to the canvas and continued to paint.

"Well," he started casually with a shrug. "It's good. I'm not sure how to word it, but I'm happy that…" he trailed off, losing his train of thought. After a moment, he spoke back up. "I'm happy that it doesn't represent your idea of family. It'd be sad to think it did."

Mariku let out an "oh" of understanding. He didn't say anything, though, as he turned back to his drawing. He glanced to the clock, noticing he only had a few minutes left. When he returned his gaze to Ryou, the English boy was off cleaning up and washing his hands off. Mariku absently rose and put his drawing away, passing Ryou on his way back to the table. When he looked at the pale boy, a bright blue stuck out on his cheek— he had paint on his face still.

"Ne, Ryou."

The white-haired boy stopped and turned around, smiling pleasantly. "Yes, Ishtar-san?"

"Mariku," he corrected without much thought. "But…" He licked his finger and reached out to the boy's cheek, wiping off the blotch of blue paint with a few strokes. Under his fingertip, Ryou started to turn bright red, spluttering. He bristled a bit, shaking.

"W-what— w-why did—"

"You had paint on your face," Mariku said easily, shrugging. He wiped his hand off on his pants, not noticing the bright red tinge that was suddenly on Ryou's entire face as he turned and walked back to his seat. Ryou just stood there, fawn brown eyes wide. He shook, a hand to his mouth, as he desperately tried to calm himself down before shakily walking back to his seat to resume cleaning up. Mariku was indifferently grabbing his bag and shouting a "see ya" over his shoulder as he left to go back to study hall.

Ryou barely waved, staring at his back with an almost pained expression.

What just happened?

__(-)__

The end of the day didn't come fast enough as far as both sets of twins were concerned. Malik collapsed on the couch almost as soon as he got home, and Mariku decided he would collapse right on top of him. That elicited a grunt of protest from the younger boy, the boy craning his head up best he could to glare at the weight.

"Get off me," he mumbled, scoffing. "You're heavy."

Mariku only shifted his weight, toothily grinning at his little brother with closed eyes. He poised his elbows on either side of his little brother's neck, head resting in his hands. "Maybe I'm not heavy so much as you're nothing but bones."

"Am not," Malik retorted weakly, glaring.

"… Brothers, what are you doing?"

Mariku glanced up to see Ishizu standing there on the side of the couch, eyebrow raised. "Talking," Mariku replied, blinking innocently. "Why?" From underneath him, still uncomfortable, Malik snorted.

Ishizu just stared for another moment. "It's quite an… awkward position," she elaborated softly.

"He took the couch," Mariku argued with pursed lips, as if the logic actually made sense to anyone that wasn't him and it was actually understandable. It wasn't.

"That's… quite possibly the worst argument you've made yet," Ishizu announced with a sigh. She closed her eyes, shaking her head and turning to leave. Mariku stuck his tongue out, but ended up toppling off the couch as Malik jammed a hand into his chest, shoving the other twin off. He crashed unceremoniously to the floor with a cry of surprise, holding his head. Ishizu turned around, frowning as Malik sat up laughing. "… You two," she sighed again, walking out of the room, rubbing her temple.

Mariku swiped absently at his twin, snarling. Malik dodged the weak attempts, laughing until the other boy decided to tackle him. The younger twin let out a squeak of surprise, ducking and scrambling off the couch. Hell fell to the floor himself, still laughing, quickly regaining his footing as he ran to the bedroom. Mariku chased after him, on his heels, and the last thing Ishizu heard after the slammed door was a loud _CRASH_ and a shout of "_OW_, why did you just tackle me— _wood floors hurt, you psycho!_"

Ishizu decided she would tune them out.

__(-)__

The Bakura residence was much quieter and much less rowdy— not to mention lacking violence. Ryou, being the good student he was, had taken the living room's coffee table "hostage" as he sprawled out to do his homework. He was working away diligently, while Bakura attempted to find something to eat. He strode out into the living room a moment later, a bag of his chips hanging from his mouth and a can of coke in each hand. He slid one onto the table for Ryou, who chirped his thank you, before the older twin plopped onto the couch lazily. He sighed.

"You know, your new friends are weird," Bakura commented to break the silence, clacking the can open noisily as he took a hearty swig.

Ryou laughed, but his eyes stayed locked on his homework. He felt his cheeks heat up a bit, remember painting class but the thought was quickly pushed away to dawdle on his homework and other pressing matters. "That so? I heard through the grape-vine that you're getting along well with Ishtar-san."

"Mariku? I guess." Bakura fumbled with the chip bag, attempting to open it. When it didn't open for his fingers, he went to gnawing on it with his teeth and pulling. Ryou glanced over at the noise, frowning as he extended a hand.

"Give me that," Ryou ordered softly. "You're going to make them go everywhere. Again," he reminded. Bakura grunted but shoved the bag to his twin's grasp (admittedly, he did have a notorious habit of making chip bags explode) without any argument. The younger white-haired boy fiddled with the top crease before expertly opening it—no teeth required. He smiled and handed it back to Bakura. "Here."

"Thanks."

As he was shoving the chips into his mouth, Ryou went back to his homework. "So," he begun in an attempt to keep the conversation lively, "are you on level ground with Malik-kun yet?" He asked absently while attempting to do Algebra in his head or with scrawls of numbers on the scrap paper beside his hand.

Bakura grunted. "He's feisty. I'll say that much," he admitted with a huff. He pulled his legs up and sat cross-legged on the couch, taking another large gulp of soda. It stung his throat a bit, but he paid little mind as a sour look crossed his face. "Of course _he's_ my partner in chemistry, by the way. Peace successfully _disrupted_, you know."

"No thanks to me?" Ryou piped up, laughing a bit. Bakura shook his head, still scowling, although he knew the other boy wasn't looking.

"Au contraire. All gratitude goes to the _teacher_ for _this_ round of misery— the only seat open was next to me, apparently," the messy haired teen grunted again. Ryou glanced over his shoulder, smiling lightly, before returning his focus to his work. His twin quickly grew bored and dug for the remote in the couch (it always ended up in the cushions— no one knew why; the stupid thing could be on the coffee table or on the kitchen counter and still end up in there). He turned the TV on, flipping through the channels in an effort to find something at least remotely interesting. Ryou paid no mind to him as he continued to tap away on his calculator and work out his calculations.

They didn't speak for the longest time. Bakura settled on some bizarre horror movie and was watching it with boredom, pointing out loudly all the things 'wrong' with the movie as he did. Arterial spray didn't shoot like that. The wounds looked pretty fake and phony to his eyes. It wasn't even possible to break someone's finger with a toothpick (maybe he'd try, just to be sure). Most importantly: knives didn't cut immediately through someone's appendages, especially an arm. Were these movie producers utter morons? Obviously they never did their research… or field work.

Bakura looked to his brother, about to ask his opinion on the matter (granted Ryou probably wasn't watching anyway, but regardless) when he noticed how clouded and glazed over the round brown eyes suddenly seemed. "Ry?" He murmured with a hint of worry, prodding Ryou's shoulder tentatively.

The younger twin snapped from his stupor with a jolt, whirling around to stare in shock at his brother. His fawn eyes were wide but they slowly returned to normal as he recognized the other. "Oh, Kura-nii! Sorry, I… I was spaced out, I guess."

Bakura raised a brow, retracting his hand hesitantly. "Apparently. Why's your face bright red?"

Ryou turned darker. "It's… not."

"… I'm not colourblind, Ry."

The other boy actually pouted, lip jutting out as his eyebrows knit together. "Okay, fine, you aren't. I was just surprised is all," he lied lamely.

"You don't blush when you're surprised, you blush when you're _embarrassed_," Bakura pointed out smugly, smirking as he twirled his finger in his brother's direction. Ryou's frown deepened. As cold and indifferent as his twin was, he was _damn_ good at reading people's emotions and thoughts— he just rarely ever acted on them because, let's face it, _he didn't care._

Eventually Ryou sighed, defeated. He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear absently, looking at the floor. "I was just thinking about painting class," he began quietly with a barely noticeable shrug of one shoulder. Bakura raised an eyebrow as if to say "so?" but Ryou wasn't done yet. He elaborated vaguely: "Ishtar-san visited."

"What, he skipped?" Bakura snorted, looking amused again. The fact that Mariku was brought up as more than likely the _reason_ for the blush went completely over the boy's head. "That's a shocker," he commented sarcastically with a little smirk. Ryou shook his head, glancing up.

"No. He was in study hall."

Bakura mumbled an "ah" in understanding, and waited for his twin brother to elaborate— but he didn't. "Is there more to the story?" He pressed after a moment, hand lifted in a vague gesture. "Why are you calling him Ishtar-san anyway? That psycho doesn't deserve the respect, if you ask me."

"No, that's it," Ryou lied. He decided to leave the part about Mariku wiping the paint off of him out. He didn't know how Bakura would react.

Had the action been one of good-intentions and probably without much of a thought at all? More than likely. Did Ryou interpret it as something that made his head reel? Definitely. He wasn't used to being touched like that by someone other than his mother, and by another boy nonetheless. Something about Mariku's touch was bizarre— he was careful as if the action would shatter Ryou's cheek but at the same point he did it with so little thought like the action was something he did everyday. Come to think of it, Mariku was drawing— did that mean he painted as well? He wasn't sure.

After being lost in thought (and realizing he was supposed to be speaking), Ryou continued. "I… I don't know why I call him that," he faltered shyly, almost smiling crookedly. "He intimidates me a bit, honestly, I guess," he admitted, looking back to the carpet.

"Don't feel intimidated by him," Bakura said slowly, leaning back with his hands clasped behind his head loosely. "Has he been threatening you?" He asked, his voice taking on a dangerous edge as his eyes darted to his brother. He tensed up just slightly, awaiting the response with a tight jaw.

"No, no!" Ryou said quickly, waving his hands defensively as he turned a little red. "No, he hasn't!"

The eyes narrowed. "Has he _hit_ you?"

"No! I promise, he hasn't done anything," Ryou pleaded, frowning. "Believe me. He hasn't done a thing. I don't know why he scares me, but… he _does_."

Something hung on the tip of Bakura's tongue— something like '_does he remind you of_ that man?'— but the thought was dismissed almost as quickly as it came. "Well, if he ever does _anything_ to you— _tell me_. Got it?"

"I will, but I doubt he'll do anything."

"_I_ don't. I'm serious, Ryou. No secrets."

"I know, and I know." The younger one fell silent for a moment, before looking at his brother almost thoughtfully. "Why do you distrust him so much? You said yourself you two seem to get along."

Bakura grunted, taking a hearty swig of his drink again. "I didn't exactly say that, but anyway… The reason we do is because of similarities. He's a lot like me," he shook the can absently side-to-side, hearing the little bit of liquid left swish against the aluminum. "That's also why he gets a red flag from me. He seems liable to snap easy."

"Quick to anger?" Ryou provided, turning around fully to face his twin. Looking up with his big fawn eyes, his elder twin almost drowned in the amount of innocence that was being set off. Sometimes, he had to think that Ryou either trusted too much or was too oblivious to think otherwise— although he knew Ryou was actually extremely skeptical. It was just the air the younger one gave off, he supposed.

"Something like that," Bakura agreed absently after a moment.

Ryou fiddled with his pencil a bit before touching it to his lips, looking thoughtful but somewhat hopeful. "Nii-san, can Malik-kun come over sometime for a sleep-over?"

"Why are you asking me?" Bakura grunted, eyes going back to the television as he got sucked back into the horror movie playing on the screen. "I don't care what you do or who you invite over. I'm not mother."

"I was just making sure," Ryou defended weakly, frowning. "I never know with you… "

"Invite his psychopathic brother while you're at it," the white-haired teen murmured sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. He shifted on the couch and groped for the remote, which had found itself (again) in between the cushions. "Make it a party."

Ryou frowned. "You're being highly cynical today."

"Aren't I always?"

"More so than usual," the other remarked with a sigh. "Is something bothering you?" Ryou pushed, leaning forward a bit with a cock of his head. "It seems like it. Do you want to talk about it?"

Bakura rolled his eyes, flipping through the channels. He kept his eyes on the screen, trying to find something of interest and so far not succeeding. "There's nothing wrong."

"You're sure?"

"… Ryou," Bakura began almost dangerously, eyes narrowing a bit. His tone was rough and coarse, but Ryou at least knew it was more so one of insistence. "There's nothing wrong," he repeated, emphasizing each word heavily.

The other boy held his hands up defensively, lips pursed. "Okay, okay. I'll back off." He sighed, taking his eyes to the TV. "Uhm, actually… can I ask you something?"

"Shoot," the elder teen replied without much thought. His eyes were glued on the scene displayed on the TV, some sort of action movie playing involving a boat blowing up and guns being fired in random directions with no relevance whatsoever to aim.

Ryou hesitated for a moment, thoughtful. After another few seconds of silence, he cocked his head and stared at his brother intently. "Does something bother you about Malik-kun, like how he acts every now and then? Anything strike you… as bizarre?"

"… What?" The slightly older twin looked over suddenly, raising an eyebrow. The movie was forgotten. "Uh, no. Should there be?"

If he wanted an explanation, he got none as Ryou only started to laugh. "Don't mind me," he said, dismissing the thought with a wave of his hand. Bakura shook his head and turned back to the TV, while the other boy went back to his work completely, turning away again— his thoughts were filled, though.

To be honest, something bothered him— gnawed at him, clawing as if it was desperately trying to surface. Ryou wasn't sure why he felt like there was something off in the other boy, but it was becoming more dominating in his head as he mused. Although perhaps, he was just over-thinking things (he was told he did have a habit of that).

It was only their first day, after all.

* * *

><p>Yep. <em>Only <em>their first day. Can you believe that four-ish chapters somehow spanned all of _one_ day? And to think people said I don't dawdle… Erk. I hope it was at least interesting?

It's been a long week. I'm graduated now, can you believe that? I'll be going to college soon… At least it's not until September. Hopefully I can chop a lot of this fic off by then! I hope to. I really want to complete this…

Anyway. Moving on: **Read & Review & Critique please!**


	5. Ch 4: Striving for Routine

**The X-Effect**

- ThiefShipping: Yami Bakura x Malik -

- DeathShipping: Yami Mariku x Ryou -

* * *

><p>Hey everyone! Sorry for a bit of a longer delay this round. I tried to make up for it with length. I have been so cosmically busy with graduation and getting the house cleaned up. But it's over with, and here I am yet again, on summer vacation and with plenty more time to write!<p>

I'm hoping things will pick up more, and the ~relationships~ can begin to develop. Or not. You know. I take awhile to get around to that sort of thing. Anyway, I won't keep you…**_  
><em>**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4: <strong>Striving for Routine<strong>**

* * *

><p>A week went by before anyone really noticed— everything was calm, uneventful, and, dare say, "normal."<p>

The Ishtar twins were finally beginning to better assimilate, although Mariku's consistent struggle with Japanese was becoming more and more apparent as the days went on. He mixed up words so often now that sometimes he'd just stop talking completely, pretending to be mute for however long he decided to mope for. Malik would yell at him in a bizarre mix of Arabic and Japanese, and eventually Mariku would snap and start spewing retorts back in his own interesting mix. Every now and then he would catch Malik slipping up, which he would get a good kick out of and make sure to parade it around for a few minutes. Ryou and Bakura stayed mercifully out of it.

The strains of friendship were also becoming just as obvious as Mariku's problems with Japanese. While he and Bakura were getting along decently (according to them, anyway— to any other eye it seemed like they were enemies with the way they bickered and fought, hitting each other as much as they could in gym and outside of it) and having their bouts of fun playing pranks and tricks, the chapter was different for him and Malik.

Bakura and Malik grew increasingly tense with each other. While the pale boy's fights with the other Ishtar twin were actually vaguely "playful" and in the end they walked away knowing the other wasn't mad, his fights with Malik were a totally new story in itself.

Often times, Mariku would catch his friend after school just to ask "what in _hell_ did you say to piss the brat off this time?" because, really, it was sometimes for the stupidest things and Mariku knew that better than anyone. One time Bakura had merely commented (snidely) on how Malik should really wear more than just one necklace every single day— the Egyptian had been angry for hours.

Ryou had tried the first few times to resolve the fights and help the two make-up, but after many failed attempts he just gave up and stayed out of it. He discovered that, soon enough, Malik got over it and all was right with the world. No apologies were needed, not like they'd ever be muttered anyway.

Speaking of Ryou and Malik, those two had become basically best friends within the short 5-day period. They were almost always at each others' sides, laughing about inside jokes or studying for the classes they had together. In some way, they were becoming inseparable.

Although despite the fact that the younger two were growing close, there was something about Malik (and occasionally Mariku, as well) that Ryou couldn't place, and it greatly bothered him.

The weird way he reacted sometimes perturbed him— from the way his face would just fall into a blank stare, a stone cold expression, to the way he flinched at or got angry from a lot of forms of contact.

Secretly, Ryou was worried.

Was something going on now, or had something happened long ago? He wasn't sure. He wanted to ask, to see if he could help, but at the same time he didn't want to pry. He resolved to never question it. It was probably best, even though it just gnawed further on his mind.

On Friday, the day when normally Bakura was forced to hang with his twin's friends (oh so affectionately dubbed the "friendship troupe"), the older white-haired boy was actually pleased (shocker, right) to notice that Ryou, instead, had gone directly into class because Malik was in there already. Ryou would've rather hung out with him instead.

Bakura opted to ignore the other two and talk to Mariku, who was fuming about some sort of thing he got in trouble for at home. The Egyptian kept saying how pissed off his (older) brother had been and that his sister had hit him with the dishtowel. Apparently she got mad about "stupid things" often and the dishtowel was her favourite weapon of choice for. Mariku never said just what he did.

Normal enough, Bakura guessed. Normal enough.

Math class went by slower than usual.

The teacher dragged on and on about the lesson and its notes. By the time they got their homework with 10 minutes left in class, Bakura was pretty positive his brain was fried. Mariku, who only managed to understand about half the lesson (in a bad combination of having problems translating the Japanese and math just plain sucking), was even worse off. He was staring at his messy page of notes with a concentrated but befuddled expression, hand absently entwined in his bangs as he slumped in his desk.

Malik eventually noticed the silent struggle as he peered over to his twin.

"Want me to help you later?" He offered, although it was hard to ignore the slight annoyance in his voice.

Mariku only frowned, eyes still trained to the paper. "Yes. Not with this." He finally flopped back into his seat, groaning with his head back and hands over his eyes. "Brother, I loathe Japanese," he whined. "The structure, the words, the infractions—"

"Inflections."

"Whatever!" Mariku let out an angry snort, crossing his arms like a pouting kid. His twin was proving the point without even realizing it (or maybe he did, he was diabolical like that after all). "It's _annoying_. As if I already didn't have enough trouble in school," he grumbled bitterly. "Let me die now. Save the trouble."

Malik rolled his eyes. "Dramatic, much? You'll live. You just need to study more. I'll help, okay?" He offered once more.

"Fine."

The conversation sort of died then. Ryou quietly worked on his homework while Malik _attempted_ to do his, but with Mariku continually poking him (or, eventually after getting no response, Bakura) for help, it was a difficult task. Bakura just watched them, unable to decide if he was amused (when it was Malik being bothered) or irritated (when _he _was getting bothered). He didn't feel like doing his homework anyway, though.

Lunch ended up arriving quickly.

Malik, who had gotten into the habit of packing and bringing a lunch for he and Mariku to share, would always walk to the cafeteria with Ryou and his twin in tow. Bakura was usually behind them, quietly staying out of the conversation he didn't care to partake in.

The group of four sat down at the lunch table. Ryou smiled at Jounouchi and Yugi, who were already there, before returning his gaze to his Egyptian friend. The others that normally sat at the table slowly arrived, Kaiba being the last one to "grace them" with his presence.

"So," Ryou began, "have any plans for the week-end, Malik-kun?" He asked curiously, smiling as he absently unpacked his bag lunch. Bakura hadn't brought his today, nor did he have any money, so after mooching money from Yugi he was up and buying lunch with Jounouchi in tow.

Malik shook his head. "Not really. I'm going to go through some boxes that are still packed up, see if I can't find a few things I'm missing."

"Boxes… Aren't they in the basement?" Mariku questioned absently, raising a brow as he did quick glance to his brother with his eyes.

"I think."

"I'll get them for you. Remind me later." Mariku snatched one of the forks that was lying beside the plastic container and jabbed it into the fruit inside it. "I can't find some of my shirts, speaking of that. Think they're down there?" He gnawed the fruit almost violently.

Malik contemplated for a moment. "Mm… Brother might have thrown them out. I'm not sure. I didn't pack the clothes. Ask Sister when she gets home, she might know."

"Might as well. I hope he didn't," the older Egyptian added with pursed lips. "Anyway, what are you even missing?"

"A few things. Like… Well, remember that lamp that had been in our living room back home?" Malik made a bizarre hand-motion, one that seemed to be mimicking the shade of the lamp or something. "I wanted it for the nightstand in the bedroom. The purple one that had a huge chip in it for some reason."

Mariku frowned, looking almost distressed for the briefest moment. "I think I know which one you mean," he said slowly. His twin noticed the odd reaction and raised a brow, silently asking what was wrong, but Mariku said nothing about it. The look, in both his face and eyes, was gone. "I'll help you look," he resolved with a shrug.

Ryou suddenly piped up, smiling. "So, are you all situated in your home yet?"

The younger Egyptian smiled a bit. "Oh. Yeah." Malik nodded, absently taking a bite into his apple. He chewed and swallowed before speaking again. "We moved in a week before we came to school, so now it's just finding the odds and ends that are still packed."

Mariku was snickering. "Like the silverware?" he provided with a grin. Malik scowled. He wasn't as amused.

"I still say you sold it all," he said dryly, his eyes narrowing.

"Yeah, yeah, just like I supposedly sold your stupid bicycle."

Bakura and Jounouchi returned with their lunch-trays at that moment, giving each other a rare look of equal confusion before sitting down. The twins didn't notice as they kept arguing. Malik was still seething.

"You _did_ sell it! I'm still waiting for a new one, you psycho!"

"If you get a bike, we'll be forced to share and I _know _you'll want purple—"

"There is nothing wrong with the colour purple!"

"Oh _no_, of course not— if you're a _girl!_"

Jounouchi decided to give his input at that moment, glancing over with a raised eyebrow and a mouthful of food. "You gushz shure do fiht a lot," he remarked with a nod or two. Tristan cast a glance to him, sweatdropping.

Mariku furrowed his eyebrows, looking irritated as he frowned. "Okay, uh," he held a hand up in a 'wait a minute' gesture. "I can barely understand Japanese itself, let alone Japanese spoken through…" he crinkled his nose, "… through spit food and a full mouth."

The golden haired boy swallowed messily, choking a bit from the motion. Yugi slapped his friend's back a few times, worried, but Jounouchi only guzzled some of his water down, coughing once, before he started to laugh. Yugi visibly relaxed as Jounouchi grinned, "Sorry 'bout that, man! I said: you guys sure do fight a lot," he repeated easily with another laugh. "Get into a lot of trouble, don't cha, Mariku?"

Muttering in Arabic (something that sounded vaguely like 'whoever the hell said you could use my name so lightly' and 'no respect whatsoever' to Malik's ears) before actually responding, Mariku just rolled his eyes. "Sure."

Honda laughed. "So, been adjusting okay and all that, Ishtar?" He looked at Mariku as he said it, but the elder twin could tell it was more so directed at them both.

"I guess," he replied absently. He glanced at Malik, as if waiting for him to disagree— the younger twin said nothing and Mariku decided the conversation was done with. He stabbed with his fork at the fruit in the bowl (which Malik had almost possessively, dammit he needed to share Malik was getting as bad as he was), absently gnawing it before his eyes lit up. He pointed frantically to his twin, who gave him an odd look as he waited for the blonde to swallow (Malik was thankful his brother had some scrap of table manners, no pun intended). After one more moment of eye rolling and chewing, Mariku burst out with: "I made the lacrosse team!"

Malik was silent, gaping slightly. "You made the _what_ team? Are you serious?"

Bakura burst out laughing, ignoring the glare-pout Ryou sent him. Anzu, who had been talking to Yugi, looked over with a raised eyebrow with the star-haired boy's expression looking eerily similar. Honda and Jounouchi were silent, while Kaiba was just watching the group with silent apprehension. Mariku scowled at them all before turning his attention to his twin.

"_Yes_, I said lacrosse and _yes_, I'm serious," he repeated with a huff. "What's the big deal? It's actually incredibly _violent_!" His eyes lit up again at that, a malicious smirk striking across his face. Malik only rolled his eyes.

"That would explain it," he murmured. "So the other day you stayed after school for that, then."

Kaiba, for one of the first times Mariku had heard him speak, added his own input: "Lacrosse doesn't start until spring, Ishtar," he said crassly and although he looked like he was glaring, it was really just how his face always was— sour and annoyed at the world.

"Bzzt, wrong!" Mariku closed one eye as he waved a hand, grinning triumphantly. "They have a fall team, actually, _and_ one for spring too!" He stuck his tongue out childishly.

Kaiba narrowed his eyes but said nothing in retort.

Jounouchi snickered, "Well, then, congrats on that, Mariku!" He gave the boy a thumbs-up and a grin. "When were try-outs? I thought I saw a poster for 'em on Wednesday."

"Yeah, they were Wednesday. Found out who got in today," Mariku nodded absently. Having a sudden mood-swing, he looked like he was bored of the entire subject already. Malik, not surprised, only shoved the food at his brother to get his attention back to a different subject before he started contemplating murder or something. Mariku wasted no time digging into the fruit greedily, Malik rolling his eyes in slight disgust.

"You eat like a horse," he commented absently. Mariku shot him a glare and shoved his brother's shoulder. Malik just glared back. "It's true."

"… Moving on," Ryou urged quietly, laughing a bit. The twins fought more than he and Bakura did. "Congratulations on making the team, Ishtar-san."

The elder Egyptian pursed his lips semi-moodily. "Mariku. Not Ishtar-san." He shook his head, biting back some other thought it seemed, before letting out a sigh. He still sounded bored as he mumbled: "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Ryou was smiling now. Mariku regarded him with little interest, continuing to stab his fork (he refused to touch chopsticks, even though Ishizu enjoyed them and Malik liked them, too) into the fruit almost murderously. Malik cast a wary gaze his twin's way, but said nothing.

The conversation died. The "friendship troupe" conversed with each other and included the Ishtar twins as much as they could— but Mariku was silent, seemingly upset or mildly furious, and Malik gave short answers. In the end, after not getting far at all, they stopped trying.

Lunch came and went just like school came and went. Eventually, the day had come and gone as well.

(-)

It bothered Bakura.

It bothered him like not much else ever had, and rarely anything plagued his mind as much as this did now. He hated it.

Ever since Ryou brought up the fact that Malik— or, namely, both of the twins in general— acted strange sometimes, it was almost all Bakura could think about. He felt like an undercover detective (although "Detective Bakura" didn't have a very good ring to it, maybe "Private Eye Bakura" instead). He observed the Egyptians' every movement. Timed their responses. Monitored their reactions.

Every now and then, something would flicker— an emotion would be set across the violet orbs of either twin and then, as fast as it came, it was gone. Was it bizarre? Only sort of. After all, Ryou was like that sometimes, even. A pass of panic or bitterness would show, and then it was smothered like a candlewick. After all, who didn't have skeletons in their closet?

The thing was that Bakura and Ryou had only one skeleton— but the Ishtar twins? They might as well have an entire mausoleum's worth.

There was more than one, more than two even, and Bakura intended to find out. How? He wasn't sure yet. He'd find out, though. He was sure of that at the very least. Ryou knew no more than he did, or if he knew he just wouldn't tell. Any pressure to ask the Ishtar twins something or if Ryou knew anything was dismissed. The fair-haired boy would easily change the subject, pleasantly almost, and smile in that same soft puppy-dog manner. '_It'd be best not to ask them anything_,' he'd say. Why Bakura would listen he'd never know.

Sometimes, he hated his twin… but only sometimes.

"Bakura?"

He was snapped from his thoughts. He blinked a few times, registering where exactly he was— their house, in the desk, in a chair, in his room. It was sort of late— like maybe 8:30PM or so. Someone was talking to him.

Glancing behind himself, his eyes met an emerald blue-green gaze porcelain skin framed by striking white—his mother. "Hm?"

Their mother smiled sweetly. "The phone rang— it's for you, shockingly." She laughed a bit and held out the white and slightly beaten up device, even though the boy was completely across the room. Bakura raised a brow and pushed away from his desk. He didn't argue with his mother because, well, it was true. Who actually called for _him_ and not Ryou? Barely anyone called for _Ryou_, even.

"Well, that's… weird," he remarked obviously, walking over to her and taking the phone delicately. He always felt like he'd break her, even though she was strong. "Thanks, kaasan…" He absently put the phone to his ear as she left, his lips pursed. "Bakura speaking."

['_Your number is _incredibly_ hard to find, I hope you know!_']

That voice. Bakura furrowed his brows, racking his mind for a moment. It was whiny, but not nasally. Sort of deep. The Japanese wasn't very good.

Oh.

Wait.

"… Mariku? Why the hell are _you_ calling— wait how in hell did you even get my number?"

[_'Phone-books are cool once you know how to use them. Rishid bought one for us. It's neat.'_]

"… We're in the phone-book?" Bakura muttered and paused before shaking his head. Whatever. "Ishtar, was this your entire purpose for calling? To tell me you learned how to use a bloody phone-book and make me aware of our existence in such?"

['_Sort of! I— Meh, hold on._'] The voice was suddenly muffled. Bakura raised a brow again, hearing some sort of shout from Mariku and someone snapping a reply in the distance. After a moment, Mariku's voice returned with a sigh. ['_Don't ask. Anyway, I had a question for you, actually._']

"… Okay," Bakura agreed reluctantly, wondering just what was so important that the Egyptian had to look up his number to call him instead of just wait until tomorrow. "I can't promise I'll answer even if I know, though…" he muttered awkwardly. Mariku didn't seem phased.

['_Yuh. That's fine. I wanted to ask if Malik's been acting funny around you, or…_'] There was hesitation. It was the briefest moment, but Bakura caught it. ['_Or if Ryou has said anything about him._']

"Funny, huh?" He remarked thoughtfully. "No, not particularly." Bakura absently sat back down at his desk, balancing his pencil between his fingers and fiddling with it. "Ryou's thrown these thoughts to you, as well, I'm assuming?"

['_No, but I picked up on it. I think he just worries about my brother too much, honestly._']

There was a confidence in Mariku's voice that Bakura was sure wasn't present on his face on the other line.

['_I _would've_ spoke to him rather than you, but I thought it'd be a bad idea.'_] He paused for a moment. [_'Malik told me, so I know I sort of intimidate him.__ That's the word, right? Intimidate? Meh. Well, I don't mean to. It's always been that way, honestly: I intimidate everyone. That's why I asked for you, instead.'_] Another pause. ['_I have to wonder, however, how your mother specifically knew I wanted you, and not Ryou. Because I said your last name since I don't know your first, which you should really tell me sometime… but that's beside the point, I guess. Cloudy, just do me a favour? Relay this to the creampuff for me._']

Bakura almost shrugged before realizing that, obviously, Mariku wouldn't have seen it anyway. "Don't call him 'creampuff,' you ass," he chided aimlessly. "But sure, whatever, I'll tell him… So the brat's fine, huh? I didn't figure anything unusual, but my brother's a worrier. He always has been." Bakura twirled the pencil absently, gazing idly at the desk. "So you honestly don't know why you intimidate him."

['_I sense the protectiveness coming through. Cloudy, I haven't done a thing— well, to _him_ anyway. _I'm not sure he was around to see that one, but _I did get into a bit of a fight._']

Bakura smirked. "Oh, really now. Verbal or fist?"

['_Verbal. I tried to make it fist-oriented but a teacher broke it up right before I managed a punch._'] A heavy sigh. ['_Regardless. Cloudy, promise, I haven't done anything to Ryou and I'm sure I won't ever. He_…_ sort of reminds me of somebody I once knew__…_'] Mariku trailed off almost thoughtfully, seeming to reminisce for a moment. [_'The kid seems incredible fragile. Is he made of glass?_']

"He might as well be."

['_True enough, I guess. Ah. Well, my sister's yelling for me to go to dinner. Catch ya. Bye._'] He hung up without waiting for a response.

Bakura snorted in amusement ("where in hell did he get the phrase 'catch ya' from?") but clicked the handset off as he ambled to the kitchen to replace it in its cradle. His mother was absently cutting up some sort of vegetables, but he didn't really care for them. He was a meat type. They all knew that.

When he clunked the phone down and back into its proper place, the fair-haired woman turned her head slightly to look at her eldest son as he sat down at the table idly. "So, Ishtar-san was it?" She began placidly. "I've heard Ryou bring the name up once or twice, but I think it was the other one. Twins, are they? New?"

Bakura let out a "mhm" of agreement but didn't add much. He didn't see the need to. While their mother was easy _going_, she wasn't always easy to _talk_ to. The way she responded would sometimes vaguely remind Bakura of himself, just in a slightly more polite manner. She was loving, though, don't get him wrong— just it wasn't expressed as thoroughly, it seemed.

"His accent's noticeable, and his Japanese could use some work," she commented to continue the conversation. She was used to Bakura not contributing much, if anything. "He seems pleasant enough, though."

"I guess so," Bakura agreed, but inwardly he was laughing his ass off— Mariku? _Pleasant_? He doubted the Egyptian could even put up a _fake_ front of pleasantry, let alone one of actuality.

"You might want to tell him to watch the genders of what he says, though," Michie continued with a shrug. She finished cutting the vegetables and was dumping them into a large bowl. "He's using mostly male ones, but a few female words and such slipped out."

Bakura snorted, an amused smirk finding its way onto his lips. "And here I thought his brother was the feminine one."

His mother turned around with her own smirk, waggling the spatula she held at him. "Hey now. Behave."

(-)

"Hey, I'm home from work!" Mariku announced loudly as he shut the door and messily hung up his coat. "Shift lasted later than usual, no thanks to Takanaka **(1)**_…_" He paused, glancing around with half-lidded and bored eyes. The TV was on, but muted and idly playing some sort of romantic drama (he assumed). Raising an eyebrow, the spiky-haired boy took a few steps in looking, around curiously. "Uh, Ishizu? Mal? You home?"

"Kitchen!" Malik shouted out of his brother's range of sight. "I'm making dinner_…_ Ishizu's in a meeting, so she won't be home until later. What time is it now? I can't see the clock."

"Err_…_" Mariku hesitated as he wandered into the small kitchen area, scratching his head. "Like, 8 or something?"

"You really did get a late shift, huh," the younger twin commented with a nod. "Hopefully you can get off earlier tomorrow or something."

"Hopefully," Mariku agreed as he sat down at the table. "Lacrosse and work might intervene a few times, but_…_" He chuckled. "I'll skip work, yeah? Call in sick or something."

"You really shouldn't," Malik sighed, turning around to lean his weight on the counter. The water wasn't boiling yet. "That would get you into trouble with our boss_…_"

"Could he really fire us?" The spiky-haired Egyptian leaned back contemplatively, putting a finger to his lips. "Eh, don't answer that, he totally could. Hey, was 'intervene' the right word?"

"What?" Malik thought back a moment. "Oh. No, not really but it's not too bad, I guess. Better in the context would've been 'interfere.'"

"Oh."

The younger twin smiled softly. "You're getting better, though_…_ Hey, did you want carrots?"

"Random," Mariku commented with a raised brow, "but no thanks."

The other Egyptian only shrugged. "Okay." He turned towards the fridge and got out a few bags of vegetables he had bought earlier that week. He slid the cutting board out from the drawer, grabbed a knife, and started to dice up the various vegetables. The water was almost done boiling.

Mariku was silent for a moment, just watching him with an air of boredom. After a few more seconds, he suddenly had an idea. "Hey, Rishid got us that phone-book for practice or something like it... do you think Cloudy's number is in it?"

"... Yes, _Bakura's_ number is probably in it," Malik repeated back with a roll of his eyes. He really didn't like the nickname the older white-haired twin had acquired from his twin but he didn't feel like arguing against it. It was mostly just stupid to him, but Mariku was a stupid person so Malik supposed he should've seen it coming. "Why? You hate talking on the phone."

"True, but…" Mariku trailed off with a shrug and got up. "Where is it? Our bedroom still?"

His twin nodded and the Egyptian wandered off to get it. He lugged it back to the table and dropped it down, opening it and slowly going through the numbers and names, finger pressed to the page and trailing down and across the ink. He was moving his lips as he attempted to read out the kanji and katakana that was hard to recognize.

"A… ki… nan… su," he murmured one of the names after long pauses in-between syllables. It wasn't close to what he wanted. He flitted through a couple pages and moved them out of his way until he found the "BA" area a few pages away. Malik had to help him, correcting his reading as he did— and point out he was in the "BUSINESS" section rather than "PERSONAL."

"Baku… Ta? No? Ryo?" Mariku frowned. The last kanji had too many meanings for him. His mind was starting to scatter— were any of those even actually the reading? "Ugh. Malik, I don't know," the spiky-haired boy pointed to the name he struggled to read. Malik glanced over.

"The second kanji isn't 'ta' or 'no'. 'Ta' looks like…" Malik snatched the pencil off the table and drew on the nearby notebook paper. Once he was done, he turned it around to show it to his brother and pointed to it with the eraser. "Like this. See? Slightly different. The top part is meant to represent a home, I heard. And, uh, 'no' looks like this… See? A bit different and it has another kanji meshed in by it, sort of."

"Well that's confusing…" Mariku remarked bitterly, scowling at the phone-book with annoyance **(2)**.

Malik shrugged. "Can be. Anyway, the kanji's read as a lot of things but in this case… yeah, I'm pretty sure it's 'ra'." Malik nodded as if to reassure himself. "First name says … Michie, I think? Yeah. Michie. Bakura Michie **(3)**," he tested the name out a few times. It was a female name, he guessed, so it had to be their mother. Why it wasn't their father, he wasn't sure— but it wasn't uncommon for divorce and separations and such. After all, they didn't have a mother or a father anymore, so it was best to not assume. Regardless, he pushed the thought aside. "It looks like the same way Ryou writes it, so it's more than likely them. Why are you calling him, anyway? You never told me."

"I want to ask Cloudy somethin'," the elder twin replied as he grabbed the phone from its wall cradle, dialing the number carefully before scuttling off to his (and Malik's— but details, details) room. It rang a few times and he coughed, nervous on the phone, but finally someone picked up— a woman.

['_Hello, Bakura residence. Michie speaking._']

Mariku took a breath. Hopefully he'd remember the right words to use. That whole 'different words for the phone' wasn't something normal for him.

"Hello." (_'It's _moshi moshi_ right? That's how to say 'hello' on the phone?_') "My name is Ishtar Mariku… I am, uh, looking for…" Shit. _Shit_. Bakura never said his first name, what the hell should he say— "…my classmate, er, Bakura-k-kun," he said hesitantly after fumbling over the ending. "Is he there?"

Damn.

Was "–kun" a good idea? No. Probably not at all. He would probably get handed off to Ryou instead. Why did he use "-kun" in the first place anyway? He _hated_ that tag, it drove him nuts because it sounded too "cutesy" and… _blegh._ He should've used "-san," or just left off the suffix in general. Well, if all else failed, he would just have to clarify that he didn't mean Ryou if he ended up speaking to him anyway. He probably should say that now before she asked.

But to Mariku's surprise, the woman asked for no clarification.

['_Oh, yes, he is. Hang on a moment, Ishtar-san. I'll go get him._']

Mariku let out the breath of air he didn't realize he was holding. Even though, really, he wanted to talk to Ryou about a certain matter, he felt like he really just… couldn't. Bakura was a more obvious choice to him, even though he was the ruder of the two white-haired boys. He would listen to what Mariku wanted to say without interrupting or attempting to "figure him out." That was all he wanted at the moment: someone to just listen. Mariku didn't want to accuse anyone or upset Ryou and if he ended up talking to the said boy, he knew he would.

Hopefully he would get given to the right twin…

['_Bakura speaking._']

Bingo.

"Your number is _incredibly_ hard to find, I hope you know!"

The conversation continued from there.

Malik had interrupted once to make sure his twin wasn't doing anything stupid. Mariku snapped he was simply asking the fair-haired boy about something, _personal, excuse me_, _I am on the phone_, and Malik fought back the urge to snort. He found that incredibly laughable because Mariku never did _anything_ without much of an ulterior motive and to ask someone something personal? It wasn't up his alley at all (unless, of course, he gained something from it). Bakura was no better, he was sure, and Malik doubted that the older boy would even listen to the 'personal' question anyway.

To say Bakura reminded Malik of his twin would've been an understatement.

He left eventually, waving a hand in dismissal. Malik didn't care.

Mariku eventually was able to ask Bakura if he thought Malik was acting weird. It sounded like the other boy didn't have a clue but, obviously, Ryou had brought it up with him. Bakura himself didn't notice anything. That was good because, really, it was cuttingly obvious that Malik reacted badly to certain things and especially certain forms of contact.

It wasn't like Malik was awful at hiding things, because he wasn't; he just let his eyes show too much at times even if he wasn't aware of it. Maybe it was mostly his subtle flinches. Or it could've been his bizarre reactions. Mariku wasn't sure. What he _did_ know was that Ryou picked up on something (something better left buried) and hopefully, after this talk, it would get put to rest… if Bakura actually relayed it to him, anyway.

Something nagged him, though, besides his concerns about his little brother— and that was the whole "intimidation of Ryou" thing.

Malik _had_ offhandedly told him one day about how Ryou was uncomfortable around the twin, that wasn't a lie. However, the rest was. He _knew_ why he was intimidating— it was all in how he looked and by "looked," he wasn't thinking of clothing.

It was his eyes.

His eyes were always hard, distrusting, and threatening because if he softened up too much, it put him in a defenseless position and then his brother would end up hurt. It happened once. It would never happen again, as far as he would know and be aware of. There was a distinct barrier always up, even if he smiled. The violet irises never varied from that cold appearance. He couldn't afford to.

How did this involve Ryou? It was simple: Ryou judged people by their eyes. Mariku knew that almost instantly upon meeting him. Certain people judge others in certain ways even if they refused to admit it or even do so unconsciously— some went by hair, some by clothes, and others by personality. Few did it by eyes, and Ryou was one of those people.

Mariku's eyes were very different from Malik's. He showed much more of his inner thoughts than his brother did, and he almost always had. It was something that told them apart even when they were small children. It worried Mariku, honestly, because despite knowing his "baby brother" could handle himself he always had that nagging thought that, what if, he wasn't the only one who could see right through him?

In the end, despite all his internal conflicts and worries about his twin, Mariku found himself growing panicked about someone else.

That person was Ryou.

Thoughts kept flitting through his head of him one day accidentally hitting Ryou by some weird chance and the boy simply shattering— was it an odd thought? Not really for Mariku's mind where the land of bizarre thoughts was never a place rarely trekked, but it was enough to disturb him. He didn't like the mental image and, really, it made his stomach churn in disgust. It didn't help that Bakura agreed with him.

Mariku felt pressured after that. He pretended Ishizu had called for him, which obviously was impossible seeing as she wouldn't be home until late into the night that might as well have been daybreak, and ended the conversation quickly as he could. He hung up without another word.

Yeah, he was slightly concerned.

It wouldn't have been the first time he'd broken someone.

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR NOTES:<strong>

**(1) **Random name for a random OC. Takanaka will show up in later chapters, more than likely! He's not much a fan of the Egyptian twins though, let's say that much.

**(2)** I'll lose my non-Japanese speaking readers here and long before, more than likely. Bakura's name is composed in Japanese like this: 獏 良 . That last kanji is a kicker, so I can understand Mariku's frustration with it. With two strokes, or 食 , it suddenly because "ta" which is used in the Japanese verb "tabemasu" or "to eat." It can also look very eerily similar to 飲 or "no," which is used in "nomimasu", or "to drink." Luckily Bakura's first kanji is really only read as "baku" with "myaku" popping up in traditional Chinese readings.

Back to "良:" … it really can be said MANY ways: ryou, ryo, yoi, ii, ji, tsukasa, naga, makoto, yoshi, rou and, of course, ra. It's one of those "different pronunciations with different readings" things— there's the On, Kun, and Nanori ways of reading it. Annoying, huh? No wonder Mariku has so much trouble.

**(3) **I'm not really good with names, haha. Uhm, I went with "Michie" for their mother's name since I couldn't remember/find hers if she was ever given a canon one. I remember Amane's name being mentioned but, eh. If she has one and anybody knows, shoot it to me. Otherwise, Michie it is…

* * *

><p>And that's that. Oooh, foreshadowiingggg! Just what was Mariku talking about? Any ideas? HMM.<p>

And gosh, I was so frustrated! I had this chapter all nice and edited and then BAM. My browser died (because I edit once in a word document and re-edit in the doc manager) and I lost it all.

I still think what I had typed first, even though I don't fully remember it, was better… Anyway, I'm sorry I took so long on this. I got distracted with a lot of real-life stuff… hopefully the next update won't take so long!

**Read & Review & Critique please!** Always greatly appreciated. You know the drill by now with flames, yes?

Anyway, UNTIL NEXT TIME! [skips off]


	6. Ch 5: Rumours Spread Fast

**The X-Effect**

- ThiefShipping: Yami Bakura x Malik -

- DeathShipping: Yami Mariku x Ryou -

* * *

><p>Here it comes, the next installment of <span>The X-Effect<span>! I'm thinking of quirking the summary just a bit, to fit more with the "wires got crossed" idea of it all. I also need to get around to drawing the "title page" for this. [laugh]

Anyway, I now give you the next chapter! Now with more drama and tension!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5: Rumours Spread Fast<strong>

* * *

><p>Malik always had been the quieter, more passive, and calmer of the twins.<p>

The things people said to his face or behind his back rarely bothered him, past getting angry afterwards, and by the second week into school, many things _had _been said. Mariku wasn't as laid-back about it and if he heard anyone talking badly about himself, or occasionally his brother, they got their ass handed to them with no exaggeration. He had already been in trouble twice for fistfights, which displeased Ishizu to whole new levels and, really, the elder Egyptian was lucky to have not been suspended yet. Malik figured that is was because of how much of a smooth-talker his brother actually was and could be when he needed.

Despite Malik having that air of general "niceness" to him, it wasn't a surprise to see him mad at someone for an irrational reason (how many fights had he had with Bakura, after all?) and going to extreme lengths to show just how angry he was. What _was_ surprising was just who exactly he was angry with— and that was none other than Yugi Mutou.

Mariku was blissfully unaware of his twin's anger when he came home that night from work, tossing his jacket onto the coat rack and making his way back to their room. He was humming some sort of tune mostly because he had gotten to leave early— he had gotten into a fight at work with another employee, and so he got sent home far before the end of his shift. Luckily he hadn't been fired, but he figured that was due to the people his boss knew. A certain one in particular would be angry with the man if he fired him, so Mariku figured he was in the clear… though, he should try to watch his back a bit more from now on.

"Hey, li'l bro," Mariku greeted with a grin, pushing the door open with a rap of his knuckles. "Guess w—"

"_I will fucking _kill_ him_!" came the furious response that cut him off, the younger twin throwing the phone down and glaring at it as if it had just bit him. The device managed not to break (somehow).

Mariku drew back and recoiled a bit, blinking in surprise as he leaned against the door-frame. "Whoa. Uh, hello to you, too… What's got _your_ panties in a bunch?"

"_Shut up_!" Malik seethed in retort, whirling around to take his dark glare to his brother. "Don't even _start_ with me, you psycho!"

"Geez, chill _out_, will you?" The elder twin shot back, holding his hands up defensively. He frowned, narrowing his eyes a bit in irritation. "I wasn't the one to do anything. What the hell's eating you, brat? You haven't been this pissed off in a long time."

His brother took a few more deep, laboured breathes before angrily kicking the bed. After a couple additional pants, he ran his hand through his bangs, grumbling, taking his eyes back to Mariku. "Sorry. _Sorry_. No, you didn't do anything. I just got off the phone with Ryou," Malik explained irritably, sitting down on the edge of the bed and tugging at his bangs, which were still entwined in his fingers.

"Ryou?" Mariku mimicked, striding over cautiously and leaning on the dresser across from the bed and his twin. "Here I thought he was the passive type. What'd he say to tick your gears?"

"Tick my what? You know what, never mind," Malik ignored him, waving his free hand dismissively. Untangling the hand from his hair, he pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "It's not what Ryou did, or even what he said."

"… Well, then I fail to see how he's involved in this. Are you PMS-ing or something?"

Malik shot his brother a dirty glare. "I'm _not_ a girl, asshole, and he's involved because of _what_ he _knows_, something of which he _shouldn_'t know," the Egyptian snapped, gaze hardening. "He called me, saying _Mutou_ had told him about the incident in gym today and he was _worried_ about me."

"Incident, huh," Mariku repeated, unaffected by the dark glare he was still on the receiving end of. "Which star-haired brother was it, older or younger?" He asked offhandedly, and his twin held up 'two' with his fingers before pointing downward. Younger. "Meh. Knew there was a reason I hated that kid, beside the obvious fact that he's too freaking happy all the time…" He paused, cutting himself off before he went off on a tangent rant. "What happened?"

"My sleeve came up."

No further explanation was needed. Mariku let out an "ohh" of understanding, nodding his head gently as he crossed his arms. He got it now, although he wasn't feeling all too sympathetic. "So, pipsqueak saw, then, and decided to play 'hero' by telling Ryou."

"Yeah." Malik fell back onto the bed, flat on his back, with a loud and exaggerated sigh. Lips pursed, he glared at the ceiling moodily as if it was the source of all his problems. "When Ryou asked, I just explained I had a lot of scars from accidents as a kid and rough-housing. Said I was kind of ashamed of them since they're ugly, so that's why I didn't want anyone to know— and I _told_ Mutou not to _tell_ anyone. Obviously, his listening skills suck as much as yours."

"… Ignoring the insult, want me to go kick his ass?" Mariku offered with a grin.

Malik snorted. "And have you expelled? Yeah, no, let's not."

"Fun ruin-er."

"Not a word."

"It is now. How'd your sleeve get pushed up anyway?" His brother raised a brow, somewhat bored but wanting to listen in some way to see if he could find an excuse to get into a fight. Like he'd really listen to his "baby brother" telling him not to beat someone up.

Malik let out a sigh, hoisting himself up into a sitting position and dragging his legs onto the bed. Sitting cross-legged, he gripped his knees and frowned. "Well, it happened third period. We were working out…"

(-)

_They had gym class together, which was the only period they actually conversed during, mostly because the Egyptian didn't know anybody else in the class. Malik, self-conscious, always changed in the shower area to avoid the other boys and wore long sleeves because of the cold temperatures (at least that was what he told everyone). That issue had been addressed and luckily put to rest so he _could_ wear them, although it didn't stop some of the teasing from some of the other classmates._

_Yugi and him weren't really "friends" per say— they spoke on level ground and that was about it, but they got along well enough. Malik honestly wasn't all too fond of the short Japanese boy with the crazy multi-coloured hair… but Ryou was, and Ryou was Malik's friend. Therefore, he had to at least attempt neutrality. Yugi was too social-butterfly for his tastes, talked too much, and was constantly happier than he really should be for any time of the week, so it was not much of a secret that he did irritate Malik just a bit._

_Even so, Yugi never really got _that_ much under his skin— until today, that is._

_They had to do crunches in gym._

_Malik had no idea what those even were, so the younger Mutou brother opted to go first and explain it by showing him, all while having the Egyptian hold down his feet to 'prevent cheating' and 'make sure he did it right.' Malik just watched, blinking, and eventually let his eyes wander around to see the other kids doing the same thing._

_'_Okay. That isn't too bad_,' he reasoned, returning his gaze to Yugi who was just about done._

_Once he finished his 20 or so crunches, he motioned for Malik now to lie down on the (grungy) mat. With a hint of hesitation, the tanned boy did, clasping his hands behind his head and awkwardly mimicking Yugi's movements from earlier while the shorter boy did Malik's earlier job. The blonde boy did a few crunches to the best of his ability, grumbling obscenities in both Arabic and Japanese, before Yugi suddenly let go of his feet with a loud gasp._

_Malik lost his balance as he sat up for another crunch, tumbling over onto his back and then rolling onto his side with a hiss. "What the _hell_, Mutou?" He snapped, glaring at the tri-colour haired boy as he got sat up. "What was that for?"_

_Yugi looked horrified. "Y… Your arms," he whispered, pointing with visible concern to the boy's left arm. He couldn't see much of the tanned wrist and forearm, but he saw enough— there were scars all over it and some of them looked almost recent. Yugi couldn't really tell that well, though— he was much too fixated on the confused violet eyes. "Your arms," Yugi weakly repeated._

_Malik raised a brow before taking his eyes to his wrists— the sleeves had gotten pushed up somehow, the left more so than the right. That wasn't good, but he had to act normal, otherwise_…__

_Taking calm eyes to Yugi's frantic and wide purple-red ones, he forced an awkward laugh. "Mariku and I use to rough-house a lot. Don't worry. This is just from us being stupid as kids, so don't get worked up about it and freak out to anyone." Another laugh. He shoved the sleeves down without another thought. A forced smile followed. "Promise."_

_"But…" Yugi faltered, eyes distrusting, before he was shaking his head. "Okay."_

_Malik just nodded, hoping the matter would be completely dropped, before deciding he was done with crunches. His stomach hurt anyway._

(-)

Mariku just shook his head. "Rough-housing? Please, that is an _awful_ excuse, little brother. Here I thought you were a better liar that that."

"Stop that. Would you have rather I told the truth? It's not technically a _complete_ lie, anyway," Malik retorted, pointing to one area on his right arm's underside. "Couple of these are from _you_ shoving me out of that swing!"

"What, you actually scarred from that?" The older twin rolled his eyes. "Thin skin. Tch." He shook his head a few times again, smirking. His twin's scowl deepened, causing Mariku to laugh. "Oh, come on, that pipsqueak is like walking gossip. You know how 'friendship' savvy he is, it was inevitable that he'd end up telling the creampuff."

"… Do you use _anyone's_ actual name anymore?"

"Nicknames are more fun," the spiky-haired boy replied defensively, huffing.

"Whatever, you psycho," Malik muttered dismissively. He paused, realizing he was just somewhat hypocritical, before shaking his head. His brother hadn't caught it. That was no surprise. "Anyway, that's that. Hopefully I won't be the school's walking rumour. That's the last thing I need right now."

"You sure you don't want me to kick his ass?" Mariku pushed, offering a toothy and stupid grin.

The younger twin rolled his eyes, scoffing. "'Riku, he has an older brother too, you know."

"So?"

"Yami-san would beat _you_ up."

"Pfft, that scrawny-ass starfish? I doubt it."

"… Starfish," Malik repeated slowly, raising his eyebrow in bewilderment. He just stared at his twin, who gave him a look that said "duh" and "what's the problem here." Malik, figuring that his brother must be clinically insane, decided to drop the topic and hope that the nickname he'd get from his brother wouldn't be worse. It was inevitable that he'd get one too, unless "brat" counted. He doubted it did, when it came to Mariku. He didn't understand his twin.

Then again, who really understood him in the first place?

(-)

Bakura hated group projects almost more than anything else in the schooling system.

As if history in general wasn't bad enough, the last thing he needed was the problem of a partner to do a stupid project with— and if his luck was as _great_ as it had been (that was sarcasm if you couldn't tell), he would end up with either the over zealous Anzu, deadbeat Katsuya, or the bratty younger Ishtar twin.

But as it turned out, lady luck seemed to have _some_ shred of humanity left to her as she smiled on him that day— Bakura ended up being paired with an Ishtar all right, but it was none other than Mariku.

While said blonde wasn't exactly the _best_ student, and neither was Bakura by any stretch of the imagination, Bakura was sure that between the two of them they could ace the project. He needed a good mark too because already his grade was getting dangerously low. Mariku was already at a lower spot, but he seemed confident enough that he could raise it up— in addition to the fact that he used the "can't speak Japanese well" excuse like it was tinsel on a Christmas tree, he somehow managed to smooth-talk his way for extra-credit. He was a strange one, all right.

Bakura inwardly was wondering which classmate Malik would be partnered off with, but in the end and after mulling over it for a few moments, he decided he didn't care that much. He moved desks to sit next to Mariku, the two absently chatting about what topic they'd do— it sounded like Satoshi-sensei wanted them to an ancient culture.

Immediately, Mariku had thought of Egypt because he knew the most about that. He shot his hand up and waved it around to catch the teacher's attention. When Mr. Satoshi finally looked over to see what his transfer student wanted, he knew almost immediately why his hand was up. Before Mariku could even open his mouth, he announced that they were picking topics tomorrow.

Mariku sullenly lowered his hand.

The bell rang as if to reiterate the fact class had flown by, and the history partners went their separate ways off to third period.

Malik decided to just not confront Yugi about yesterday's incident and subtly avoided him. He was too focused on cringing in pain from the "suicides" **(1)** they were doing, anyway. Never before had he wanted to murder someone that badly, and that was saying something because Mariku got on his nerves _a lot_. He'd hold a grudge against the gym teacher for a long while.

He was limping into literature class, holding his side with angry Egyptian-Arabic curses escaping his lips as he sat down in his desk. He could already feel the muscles aching and the stitch in his side shouting in protest. Malik tried to ignore it and just set his head on the desk, only half-listening to Ryou who had wandered up to him.

"Uhm… Malik-kun?" The boy started softly, raising an eyebrow. He reached out a hand cautiously and set it on the boy's shoulder, shaking him a bit. "Are you all right?"

The blond shifted a bit before he finally raised his head, jutting his lip out angrily. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just tired," he admitted, still panting a bit from gym. He couldn't ignore the feeling of being sweaty and nasty either— having gym so early in the day was really obnoxious. "We did, er, suicides in gym."

"Oh." Ryou seemed to have a look of understanding pass over his face. "I see… Ah, shoot." He laughed a bit, letting out a sigh. "That means _I'll_ have to do them. My, I just don't have that much energy today."

"Good luck. Don't die."

"Your empathy is overwhelming."

Malik, despite himself, grinned at the white-haired boy who only smiled back, both starting to laugh. "I do my best," the Egyptian finally said with a wink. Ryou only shook his head, the soft smile still on his face, before sitting down in his seat right next to Malik.

(-)

Malik walked into the cafeteria with Ryou right next to him, the two chatting about literature class and the upcoming test they had as they sat down. Mariku and Bakura had gone ahead of them and were already seated, although they were silent until the rest of the table, which was a convoluted mess of happy conversation.

"Did you guys hear?" Jounouchi suddenly began, hands splayed out in front of him for effect. "The librarians gonna get _fired_, I think!"

"Oh?" Ryou looked up, quirking an eyebrow curiously. "I haven't heard, although…" He shook his head. "I suppose I'm not entirely surprised."

Bakura nodded in subtle agreement, but said nothing while he ate.

Malik and Mariku exchanged a look of confusion before taking identical violet eyes to Yugi, who had begun to speak next. "I can't believe she's getting fired," the star-haired boy added with a frown. "Sure she isn't always the most, well, _pleasant_ person, but to lose her job over it? What did she _do_?"

"Nah, Yug, that's not it at all," Jounouchi replied, waving his hand in a "no" motion.

Honda nodded fervently, happily indulging in the gossip. "Yeah, I was listening to the supervisor and principal talk and it sounded like she _stole_ one of the school's _laptops_!"

"What? Really?" Anzu looked shocked. "I wouldn't have expected that from _her_!"

"You've obviously never seen her mean side," Jounouchi remarked with a snort, smirking as he rubbed his nose with his thumb. "I'm jus' surprised she wasn't gone earlier for somethin' like dat!"

Kaiba, who had been silent up until this point, only shook his head and looked over to the group. "It's about time. For once, I agree with the mutt," was all he added with a mutter. He ignored Jounouchi's sudden glare and snapped response of "_stop _callin'_ me dat!_" as he went back to eating.

The conversation flitted to various things from that point on— other teachers that were randomly mean, past teachers that had been fired, the one teacher that everyone loved because she was hot as hell (the Ishtar twins didn't catch her name although Mariku was suddenly curious), and other teacher-related things.

Ryou eventually pulled himself out of the conversation, and turned to Malik with a smile. "So, about our literature test. Think it'll be hard?"

Malik was somewhat relieved to finally get his own word in edgewise on a topic he wasn't completely lost on. "Ah, maybe?" He smiled lightly, shrugging and looking to the table. "I read the book, but admittedly I didn't entirely grasp the plot. I still have my notes, but I don't know how much it'll help. I might do okay, though. What about you?"

"Oh, same," Ryou laughed. "I'll have to study really hard to pass, I'm sure. Harper-sensei's tests can be quite the obstacle, just a forewarning— I would be wary."

"Thanks for the heads up," Malik replied with a light laugh. He glanced to his twin, prodding the boy's shoulder with the unused end of his chopstick. "Hey. Do you have Harper-sensei for lit?"

Mariku seemed to snap out of his thoughts. Looking over, seemingly annoyed, he scowled. "Uh, no. So, I can't study with you, and even if I _did_ have him, I wouldn't study with you anyhow."

"Geez, I was just curious. No need to be an ass about it," Malik snapped weakly, beginning to turn away. The snort that came from Bakura stopped him in his tracks and he took his eyes to the white-haired teen, frowning. "What?"

Bakura only shook his head, smirking. "You're just one to talk," he remarked, quirking an eyebrow.

Violet eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly how it sounds," Bakura retorted, his smirk widening. "You aren't exactly the, ah, _nicest_ person around either, really," the white-haired boy rest his elbow on the table, cheek cupped in his hand. Malik huffed, scowling bitterly at the other teenager.

"You should look in a mirror, then," Malik snapped back detachedly. He turned his head away, trying to ignore the now-laughing Bakura.

"It's a wonder how you ever get anything done," the white-haired teen continued, cocking his head with that same arrogant smirk gracing his face. "You always get so pissed off at each and every insult thrown your way. How do you manage to get through the day?"

Malik glared at him from the corner of his eyes. "Do you ever shut your trap?"

Bakura ignored him. "I mean, your brother at least _does_ something about it. What do you do? Pout, scream, and walk off angrily?" He snorted in amusement. "You're basically a _girl_."

"Shut up," Malik seethed in retort, his eyes narrowing as he fully turned towards the other boy.

"Here we go, you continuing to prove my point," the mahogany-eyed teen continued, aimlessly rotating his hand as he closed his eyes with a fake look of thoughtfulness. "You simply tell me to shut up, but do nothing to alleviate the situation." One piercing eye opened, focusing solely on the frustrated blonde in front of him. The smirk returned. "You can't actually defend yourself, can you?"

Malik bristled even further, growling.

"Bakura," Ryou snapped shortly, taking an annoyed gaze to his brother in an attempt to be forceful. "Stop that."

Mariku's eyes were narrowing dangerously at his friend, murmuring darkly: "Cloudy, you better watch your tongue or else I'll be tempted to rip it out."

The boy in question only snorted. He opened his other eye, glancing to Mariku before looking back to that boy's twin. "Now _he_ proves my point. See that? Brat, you're a walking _target_. It's no wonder that all those rumours floated around about you." Bakura's smirk darkened as Malik suddenly looked shocked, mouth dropping open. "Ah, yeah, I heard about that little _problem_ you seemed to be having?" He pointed absently to the arms of the tanned boy. "Not only do you not defend yourself, you do stupid things like _that_—"

"Shut up!" Malik snapped again, fists clenching and teeth grinding together dangerously. "I didn't do _anything_ to my arms, where the hell did you even hear that?"

"Eavesdropping on my baby brother's phone conversation," Bakura replied simply, shrugging. He didn't look the least bit ashamed, unlike said "baby brother" who was gaping.

Ryou looked at his twin, visibly upset. "B-Bakura! I _never_ said he did those things—"

Malik ignored the younger Bakura twin, eyes narrowing in the older boy's direction. "It was a _rumour_ and a _falsified lie_," he seethed. "You have no right to judge me for something inaccurate in the first place."

"Are words your only defense?" was all the white-haired teen replied with, seemingly bored with the entire conversation as he looked away and off into the distance. "Then again, your words are barely able to be called that, anyway. Like I said… _a girl_."

"Stop calling me that, _you asshole_!" The younger Egyptian boy hissed, slamming one hand onto the table. "So I don't go around _punching_ people when they say stupid shit about me, what the hell's the big deal?"

Bakura took irritated eyes to the blonde boy, gaze narrowing. "One day you're going to get into _real_ trouble, and you'll just stand there and take it like some little bitch," he grumbled darkly, ignoring the shocked look on Malik's face as he continued. "You'll get mugged, beat up, or even _raped_ and the most you'll be able to do is _scream and cry_."

"_Bakura_!" Ryou gasped, looking horrified. Both feuding boys ignored him as the tanned jaw snapped shut.

"Don't talk about shit you know _nothing_ about," came Malik dark and snarled reply, fists clenching dangerously. He was really tempted to reach across the table and take Bakura's thin, pale neck into his hands and simply snap it. That was a line Bakura shouldn't have crossed, but it didn't look like he intended on stopping anytime soon. He'd cross over that line so far that it'd only a blur in the distance and that wouldn't be the end of it.

Yugi worriedly looked over, holding his hands up in a 'hold on' sort of motion. "H-hey, guys, now let's not fight—"

"Stay out of this, Mutou," Bakura snapped without even looking at the star-haired boy. Brown-red eyes were focused darkly on only Malik. "White-knight somewhere else."

"Leave him alone," Malik retorted quickly, pointing at Bakura with a glare. "At least he has _some_ shred of manners, unlike _you_, who couldn't give a sideways damn even if that rumour of me cutting _was_ true!"

Bakura snorted. "You're right, I couldn't and _don't_ give a damn. And please… You defend him, and yet don't defend _yourself_. You're some sort of fucked up, aren't you? _Face it_, brat. You can't stand-up for yourself. One of these days, you're going to get into some major trouble and _big brother_ won't be around to save you like he always seems to."

Mariku bristled at that, taking hard violet eyes to his friend. "You leave me the _hell_ out of this argument," he said shortly.

"I won't," Bakura argued back, eyes shifting to the elder Ishtar for a moment before they returned to Malik. "Brat needs to get this through his thick skull. Life won't be handed to you on a silver platter like you seem to think it will be, you bloody git," he muttered off-handedly. "Stop acting like some spoiled rotten_ rich-kid_."

Malik's jaw dropped, and their lunch table was stunned into silence.

This wasn't going to end well.

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR NOTES:<strong>

**(1)** Suicides are… not what they sound like? [laugh] Well, _obviously_… At my old school, back when I was a wee little tyke (read: 14, haha), suicides were when you had to sprint— yes, sprint, not run but _sprint_— back and forth across the gym, from wall-to-wall, for basically the entire period. By the end of it, I wanted to _commit_ suicide. Ew.

* * *

><p>… In which Mariku gives every single character he knows of a nickname. Haha, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter despite it all [mopes a bit]<em>…<em> Either way: uh-oh, I sense a fight coming on. Bad cliffhanger? Possibly. I couldn't find a good way to transition into the next scene, so this is what you get. Apologies!

I tend to write more seamless things rather than actual chapters. It's been a long time since I've done a chapter fic...

Anyway: **Read & Review & Critique please! **

Thanks again to everyone who is reviewing, favouriting, adding to story-alerts, etc! It _really_ makes me smile, you have no idea how happy it makes me to know it's being enjoyed! So thank you thank you! I hope you'll all stick with me until the very end~


	7. Ch 6: Eruption

**The X-Effect**

- ThiefShipping: Yami Bakura x Malik -

- DeathShipping: Yami Mariku x Ryou -

* * *

><p>I'm back with yet one more addition! This one didn't take as long since I had most of it typed up already. I tend to get "random scene" ideas into my head and just go to town with them. Basically this entire chapter was pre-written, haha. It needed major editing though. But! It's done.<p>

It was good for me regardless since I seem to have damaged a nerve in my hand or something. Hurts like hell to type, but it's getting better…

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6: Eruption<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Bakura snorted. "You defend him, and yet don't defend yourself. You're some sort of fucked up, aren't you? Face it, brat. You can't stand-up for yourself. One of these days, you're going to get into some major trouble and <em>big brother_ won't be around to save you like he always seems to."_

_Mariku bristled at that, taking hard violet eyes to his friend. "You leave me the hell out of this argument," he said shortly._

_"I won't," Bakura argued back, eyes shifting to the elder Ishtar for a moment before they returned to Malik. "Brat needs to get this through his thick skull. Life won't be handed to you on a silver platter, you bloody git," he muttered off-handedly. "Stop acting like some spoiled rotten _rich-kid._"_

_Malik's jaw dropped, and their lunch table was stunned into silence._

_This wasn't going to end well._

Malik suddenly slammed his hands on the table as he stood up, snarling. He was _furious_. "Ex_cuse_ me? _Spoiled rich-kid_? _Me_? What the _hell_ gave you the right to call me that!"

"It's pretty bloody obvious," Bakura seethed back, glare hardening. "With the way you protect those stupid earrings and necklace you wear, I feel right to assume they're pure gold. Are they not?"

"That's none of your business," Malik snarled, but Bakura either didn't hear him or just chose not to listen.

"Just sit down, you're causing a scene."

Violet eyes narrowed dangerously. "_You _started this battle," he hissed, "if you have forgotten that already."

"I'm sure you'll be pissed about it for days, really I am," Bakura muttered, rolling his eyes, "but I honestly don't feel like listening to your bullshit anymore. So, sit down and go back to silently fuming like some girl. You'll be over this before we all know it."

Malik tensed up, teeth gritting. "Will you _stop _acting like you can read my mind and predict my every move?"

"I won't, since I don't _need_ to act," Bakura snapped back. Now _he _was starting to get pissed. "You're as open as a bloody _textbook_!"

"_Ha_!" Malik spat. "Maybe your _math book_, since I've never even seen you so much as _once_ crack it open!"

Bakura growled. "I'm _passing_ and that's not the _point_," He hissed. "Regardless, maybe if you stopped being so _obvious_ about your emotions—"

"_You don't know _anything_ about_ me!" Malik shouted, slamming his hands into the table once more.

Suddenly, it seemed like the whole cafeteria was thrown into silence, the attention focused solely on the argument as heads turned towards them. Murmurs were floating around, whisperings about what could be happening and some of the students seemed to be hoping for a fight.

Malik didn't even notice— his eyes were fixated on Bakura. "You think you have me figured out— well, you're _wrong_!"

"Somehow I doubt that!" Bakura stood up now, eyes narrowing dangerously at the blonde. Oh yeah, he was getting _really _angry now. He leaned on the table and closer to Malik, snarling with a dark glare as their eyes violently clashed. "Trust me, _brat_, I sincerely doubt you have _anything_ significant to hide! You're _obvious_, so stop pretending like you're so fucking _special_!"

Malik growled and once again looked ready to lunge across the table and strangle the white-haired boy. Ryou was worriedly grasping his twin's sleeve, tugging slightly as he looked panicked. "K-Kura-nii, _please_—"

"You know _nothing_!" Malik yelled, screwing his eyes shut as his shoulders shook in fury. "_Do you _hear me_, you conceited bastard_? _NOTHING!_" He shook his head a few times before hanging it as his hair flopped into his eyes. "You don't know a _damn_ thing about my _life_, my _family,_ and you don't even know a _single _thing of what I've _gone through_!" His eyes snapped open as he brought his head back up, fury flaring dangerously in the violet orbs.

Bakura only threw his head back and laughed— a cold, malicious and coarse sound that was devoid of any actual amusement. "_HA!_ What a _joke!_ I could say the exact same thing to _you_!"

"This isn't a fucking contest!" Malik snarled loudly.

Mariku was watching the fight with an unreadable expression. He looked like he wanted to desperately intervene, but wasn't sure how to do it or if he even should. In the end, the elder Egyptian just took his eyes to the table silently, poking at his food absently. He was going to stay out of it.

Malik continued to seethe with another few shakes of his head, "Are you listening to _anything _I'm saying!"

"Why in hell would I _want _to?" Bakura shouted in retort, growling. "Your voice is shrill enough to break god-be-damned _glass_!"

Malik turned red— not from embarrassment but pure fury. "You _son of a_— your voice isn't angel songs and melodies either!" He snarled. "Whether you like my voice or not, you're missing the _point_!" He leaned closer to Bakura, eyes dark and narrowed. "You don't know _anything_ _about me_," he hissed lowly.

"Honestly, I have no intention to _get _to _know you_!" Bakura ground out through his teeth. "The only reason _anyone_ would is for your 'pretty little face' or your _body_ since your personality leaves _much to be desired_! Your body is the _only_ thing worthwhile about you!"

He expected a retort— a shout, a yell, something. Anything… but, nothing came. What Bakura didn't expect was for Malik to look slapped as he leaned away, stumbling back and away from the table, his chair clattering to the floor.

"But— I… my body, it…" Malik whispered incompletely and Bakura could've almost sworn he saw water pooling in the boy's eyes. The Egyptian trembled a bit, still attempting to back up all the while his violet eyes were fixated on Bakura. Mariku, the argument finally caught up to him, turned around and quickly tried to grab his brother's arm— but Malik flinched away from the touch with a terrified expression directed at him.

Mariku recognized these eyes.

His own eyes widening, the older Egyptian reached his hand out once more. "M-Mal, are—"

Malik ran.

He turned and bolted out of the cafeteria before Mariku could even blink. The elder twin shot up as fast as he could, fumbling to get out of his chair which kept getting its legs caught on the table.

"_Malik_!" He shouted after the other, but his brother was already long gone and out of the room with the cafeteria doors slamming loudly as they shut. He stared at the exit, stunned into silence, before turning back towards Bakura. The Egyptian was positively _livid_. He bore his teeth, showing off sharpened and almost fang-like canines, with his face screwed up into an angry twist of kohl lines and pure fury. "How. Fucking. _Dare you_," he seethed dangerously, shoulders trembling from the building anger. "HOW DARE YOU _SAY THAT _TO HIM?"

Bakura was silent—to say he was surprised at Malik's reaction would've been an understatement— but when Mariku shouted at him, the shock faded back into anger as his fists clenched dangerously. Mahogany eyes redirected towards the other Egyptian boy, narrowed. "Brat had it coming," he growled. "It's _true_, anyway—"

Mariku punched him.

It was all so fast that it took even Mariku a moment to figure out he did it. He hit the other teen right in the side of his face, smacking his jaw, and Bakura ended up losing his footing. He fell messily backwards and whacked his head on the empty table behind him, white flashing across his vision for just a moment. He lay there on the ground for a few seconds, blinking and collecting himself, before he slowly lifted himself up by his elbows. Ryou let out an "eep!" and was immediately at his brother's side, Bakura hissing as he held his head before moving on to rub his cheek. It was going to leave one nasty bruise.

Mariku panted, but only watched the white-haired boy with hatred burning in his eyes. He ignored the shouts from the people at their table and the ones nearby— some aimed at him, some at Bakura— and looked away. He wiped the back of his hand against mouth, as if ridding a bad taste from it. Quietly, he murmured:

"… Don't you _ever_ make my little brother cry again."

Without saying anything else, the Egyptian was walking away without looking back.

He had to find Malik.

(-)

"Are you okay?" Ryou asked his brother tentatively, helping his brother walk to the nurse's office. Despite the protests, he had slung the older twin's one arm over his shoulder let Bakura lean on him. The older twin was steady enough on his feet, but Ryou was worried about whether or not he was dizzy and he didn't want the other boy toppling over. "You fell back pretty hard," he whispered.

Bakura grunted, rubbing his head absently. "Yeah. Hmph, he has a mean right-hook, I'll give him that…"

"… Well, I can't say you weren't asking for it," Ryou murmured with a frown after a slight hesitation. He looked to the ground quietly. "Brother, that was an _awful _thing to say."

"Spare me the lecture, I know."

"Yes, but— wait, you _know_?" Ryou repeated after cutting himself off, looking shocked. Had he heard him right? He glanced at his brother, as if to check if Bakura was joking. He wasn't.

The nurse wasn't in her office when they got there. Ryou just led his brother over to the back corner where they could wait for her to return and hopefully not be late for the next class (although lunch wasn't over yet, so it gave them some time). Bakura sat down on the nurse's bench, wincing slightly as he did, and leaned against the wall. Finally, he spoke: "I'm not going to apologize, though. It's true."

"Nii-san…" Ryou began slowly, looking almost angered. "You had _no _right to say what you did," he stated defiantly.

"He said shitty things to me, too!" Bakura hissed, glaring darkly at his brother. "But you're defending _him_ instead? I don't see the bloody problem here, anyway!" He snapped. "He shouldn't be so overly sensitive like a god be damned girl in the first place!"

Ryou's frown deepened. He briefly wondered if it was his place to tell, his secret to divulge, but decided it wasn't. Malik wouldn't want him to, more than likely, even if it seemed like an insignificant thing to him. He sighed and shook his head, dismissing the thought. He wouldn't even bring it up. "Just please," he started softly, looking to his clasped hands with an almost sad expression, "you should apologize— to _both _of them."

"I won't do that." Bakura looked away, his eyes flicking to the door as the nurse walked in. Ryou glanced up to her and offered a shaky smile. She returned it slightly, but then frowned as she noticed the growing purple and blue bruise that had found its way onto Bakura's jaw and cheek.

"Well… what happened here?" The nurse asked worriedly. She assumed it was yet one more fight that the older Bakura twin got into, and that another student would be coming in soon enough with similar injuries (or, given who exactly this was, _worse_ ones).

"I fell," Bakura replied shortly. "That's all."

He technically wasn't lying, Ryou had to think, but he wasn't really telling the whole story either. Maybe that was for the best.

The nurse frowned but decided to not to question it. It was too much effort and really, she couldn't accuse him of anything without proof, regardless. Bakura glared absently at her for a moment, knowing she wasn't fully believing him. Ignoring the nurse as she started to get out some band-aids and aspirin, he turned to Ryou. "Besides, Ry… he was still too bloody sensitive."

Ryou bristled, muttering in a hushed voice, "Excuse me?" He frowned, looking almost angered. "I'm beginning to think Ishtar-san should've punched you _twice_," Ryou commented dryly. Louder, he announced. "You need to be nicer to them, not snap such mean things to Malik especially. Come on, brother… Remember, when _we_ transferred here? It's hard to be the new kid— and they're from an entirely new _country_."

"I really don't care, Ryou," Bakura snapped shortly. "Save it."

"Touzoku…"

"Don't call me that! I said _save it_, Ryou!"

The nurse, who had started to wipe up Bakura's face with an alcohol swab, sighed. After putting a band-aid on his cheek, she forced a small smile. "Well, I patched you up. Did you want some aspirin or anything for pain?" She asked, but the teen only shook his head, still glaring. "Okay. Well, you're free to go back to class, now, if you don't need a pass," she absently walked away and washed her hands.

Bakura mumbled something as he stalked off, hands in his pockets. Ryou cast a "thank you" to the nurse before following his brother back to the cafeteria.

(-)

"Malik!" The elder Egyptian wandered the hallway, yelling for his brother as he looked around, beginning to get vaguely more worried that he couldn't find his 'other half.' He cupped a hand to his mouth, calling: "Mal! Come on, brother! Ugh. Malik, where are you?" He frowned.

Mariku glanced into classrooms, hoping to find an empty one with a blob of light yellow hair inside. No such luck. He was about to give up when he noticed the door leading outside to the courtyard— it wasn't completely shut, letting in the soft wind of September and the sunrays of the day. Cautiously, Mariku walked over and pushed it open the rest of the way. There was a steady sound of chattering from the other students eating outside, some on the bleachers and some sitting on benches near it.

The Egyptian was about to turn around and leave, when he saw yellow against the dark brown of a tree—Mariku felt a sudden wave of relief overcome him as he realized it was his twin. Malik had his knees pulled to his chest, head resting against the tree behind him as he looked up to the sky. Without another thought, Mariku was out the door as it shut loudly behind him.

"Mal!" The older Egyptian called, racing over quickly. "Thank Horus I found you… I was _worried, _you _dolt_!" He snapped, waving a hand as if he'd smack the boy in the head. Admittedly, he was tempted.

Although the tone was harsh, Malik knew his twin meant well. Looking over to his brother, he attempted a small and forced smile. His eyes were red from crying and even then still glistened with remaining unshed tears, something Mariku hadn't seen in years. "Sorry," he said finally, and that was all he said about it. Mariku only sighed, anger drained, sitting down next to him with a flop as he leaned against the large tree trunk.

"Are you okay?" He asked tentatively. After a moment's hesitation, he added with a deep frown: "Don't be insecure about that, of all things."

Malik just shook his head, more so in disagreement to the latter than anything else. "I'm fine. You know I'm just sensitive about my body."

"I do, but you _shouldn't_ be because, I'm sorry, it's a bit stupid to be." Mariku sighed again, running a head through his spiked bangs and ruffling them absently. He tugged at them for a second or so, shaking his head. "Would it make you feel better if I said I punched him?"

"You what?" The blonde straightened up a bit, taking his shocked gaze over to his brother. "You _punched_ him?" Malik repeated. "'Riku! Who's stupid now?" He snapped a bit irritably, lips pursed. "You're going to get suspended or something, idiot!"

"Well, it'll be worth it," Mariku retorted off-handedly with a huff. He laced his hands behind his head, leaning back lazily. "He made you cry."

'_Not one of my better moves._' "Yeah, but…" The younger blonde bit his lip. "He seems to be the vengeful type. What if he hurts you?"

"I could take it."

"He's strong," Malik countered.

Mariku frowned, eyes darting over to his twin. "I'm stronger."

"Well, what if he breaks your neck?"

"I have a spine of steel."

"What? Okay, so, how come you didn't go off in the metal detector at the airport?"

"… It's a… special metal," Mariku said slowly, wiggling his eyebrows for effect.

Malik scowled. "Yeah, special as your _head_."

"… Ouch. Low blow." A (faked) wince. "Either way, I could totally handle him!"

"Even if he jabs you in the eye with a switchblade?"

"Yeah, of c— wait, _does _he carry a switchblade?"

A pause. "Uh, I don't know. Maybe." Malik blinked. "For the sake of this hypothetical situation, let's say he does."

"Fair enough. Well, then, I'll wear protective sunglasses."

"… Glass breaks when confronted with a knife, especially a thin type like lenses."

"No worry: I'll have unbreakable glass, like the stuff they use for windshields and stuff." Mariku grinned, pointing his fingers like a gun childishly at his brother with a wink.

Malik deadpanned. "It can still break, but either way they don't make that for sunglasses."

"Oh. Uh, normal glasses then?"

"Don't make it for those either… You look stupid in glasses, anyway."

"Stop poking holes in my story!"

"Like Bakura would poke holes in your g-gl…glasses-s?" Malik trailed off, unable to suppress his growing amusement as he began laughing.

The twins couldn't help bursting in identical bouts of loud laughter. Malik held his stomach, flopping over onto his brother a bit while Mariku leaned on him in return, laughing in his own amusement. He had a hand on his forehead out of an old habit. As the laughter died, the twins turned to smile at each other once they completely calmed down. Malik finally relaxed a bit, letting go of his knees and extending his legs lazily. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly to calm himself down before deciding to return to a more serious topic.

"… So, what are we going to tell sister? She's bound to find out."

"The truth," Mariku replied simply, shrugging. He was still smiling a bit. "I mean… he made fun of you and I hit him for it." The smile fell a bit further. "Not much else to the story, I'd say." His twin fell silent— the amusement that had lingered was now completely gone. "She'll be mad, sure, and probably so will Brother— but it was worth it, though. He deserved it."

"He's sort of right, though," Malik admitted quietly after a moment. "I mean… my personality sucks."

Mariku huffed, pursing his lips. "Pssshh! _Mine_ maybe, but not yours… well, usually." He looked upwards at nothing, shrugging again with a teasing smile. Malik whapped his shoulder and the twin turned his head to grin at him, before returning a now placid face back to the sky. "Besides, Mal…" he hesitated. "Don't be ashamed of it."

"I try not to be. It's hard. It's mostly the scars, anyway."

They fell back into silence. It wasn't awkward, but it wasn't exactly comfortable either. It was just silence, lacking either of their voices. A few birds would chatter off in the distance and some voices from the other outside-lunch-eaters (they were smarter than he was probably, sitting on the bleachers, since the ground was, Mariku just now noted, sort of wet) floated over— but between them, there was nothing.

Mariku flipped a rock absently with his foot before piping up: "I have football tryouts today after school… I already signed up."

"Oh?" Malik began dully, glancing over. "What happened to lacrosse? You quit already, I see. It's barely been a week."

"No… no, I didn't _quit_, per say…" The spiky haired Egyptian coughed awkwardly. "Er… I might have possibly gotten kicked off?" Mariku laughed a bit, sweat-dropping as he scratched the back of his head. "Sort of kind of accidentally might've blinded someone a little and hopefully temporarily with my stick?" **(1)**

"… Wow. Really? _Really_, brother?" Malik frowned disapprovingly, furrowing his brows. "The team didn't even play a game yet. You guys— well, _they _are still practicing for the upcoming ones. Was it seriously an accident? Because somehow I doubt you can get kicked off for that."

Mariku coughed again, looking away. "Well… an accident as far as _I'm _concerned…"

"So it was on purpose, then."

"Shut up, American football's more fun anyway," the elder twin snapped defensively as he turned his head back to Malik. "Get to tackle the hell out of people!" He upwardly punched the air triumphantly, grinning, "Hopefully the try-outs will go well!"

Malik just laughed a little, shaking his head slowly. "Just try not to shatter anything."

"Tch, you know I won't. I'm tough! Thick skin, strong bones and all that!"

"… I wasn't concerned about _you_."

"Oh." The other Egyptian looked dumbfounded as he blinked a few times. "_Oh_. Well, in that case, no promises."

Malik couldn't help it as he laughed again, this time feeling his worry and anxiety melt away as his shoulders shook from the amusement. Mariku smirked, looking to his brother with vaguely affectionate eyes.

"We made it once," he began absently, standing up with a dramatic stretch. He cracked his back (Malik scrunched his nose at that), and stretched his arm before looking back down to his twin. "We'll make it through this, too." He extended his right hand, winking. "I promise."

Malik grabbed the offered hand and was hoisted up with a grunt on the elder brother's end. Malik chuckled, smiling. "Right." His expression slowly became sullen, amusement falling to a frown. He just assumed Mariku would make the team. "Won't you have to wear short-sleeves and shorts for practice and such? Even occasionally?"

"Mm. Yeah, I guess I will," Mariku replied distantly, shrugging lightly. "That'll be hard to get out of. I can manage well enough in gym, but this I might not be able to avoid." He thought for a moment before sighing. "Ah, well, I knew it'd happen eventually. I'll handle it somehow I suppose… Mal?" He suddenly started, looking at his brother with a frown. "I know I already said this, but don't be ashamed of your body."

"I'm not," Malik replied simply. Absently, he looked at his left palm. "It's not my body specifically I don't like. I don't have some stupid insecurity about being fat or anything like that. It's just… who _would _ever want me for it, especially after they saw…" He trailed off with a sigh, shaking his head a few times as if to erase the thought. "Never mind. I just wish it'd all go away."

The Ishtar twins fell silent, walking towards the school without a word. Mariku opened the door to the hallway and held it open with his elbow for Malik, who skirted by just as Mariku let it loudly shut behind them. He glanced to the clock, noting the time. Lunch was just about over.

Suddenly, Mariku spoke back up with a sigh. "We're in the same boat, you know."

"I know, but I wish we weren't in a boat at all."

The older boy chuckled. "Swimming in the ocean instead, are we?"

"You know I can't swim," Malik laughed.

"Oh. Right. Drowning, then!"

"What?" Malik shoved his brother's shoulder, laughing harder. "Hey, don't be an ass!"

The bell rang.

Malik waved and turned to leave, only stopping once he heard his twin's voice.

"Brother? One quick thing," Mariku grabbed the other boy's arm before he walked off. Malik looked at him attentively, cocking his head. The older boy continued. "I know you're mad at Bakura. Trust me, I'm mad at him too, but… I think it'd be in your best interest to at least feign indifference."

"I don't need to," Malik replied, blinking as if the entire idea of being angry was a foreign concept he didn't understand. "I'm not mad at him, so, it's okay. _He_ might be mad, though."

"He might," the twin agreed absently, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Mm, so you're not actually mad?"

"Not really."

The elder twin looked like he didn't believe it, but he knew it was better to not press the matter. Mariku was worried about leaving his brother but Malik insisted he was okay. The younger boy smiled in that carefree way he did (it looked fake to Mariku's eyes) and promised, holding out a pinky. How childish, Mariku had said— but he extended his pinky finger anyway and they locked them. Promise. He was fine. Mariku sighed and gave in. Only slightly reassured, the two parted ways for their next class.

The older Egyptian was almost to the gym when he remembered— _Bakura_ was in his next period. Silently berating himself, Mariku only hoped he wouldn't walk out of class with a black eye. Even if he did— though it probably wasn't the best idea now that he thought of it— he still felt like it was worth it.

If anything else, he'd have his own bruise to prove that.

(-)

The two "partners in crime" ended up just not speaking most of the period, until Bakura decided to act like nothing had happened. He brought up a topic, seemingly indifferent— Mariku didn't know, but the white-haired boy was testing the waters to see if the alligator (Mariku) would bite (hit him again). But the worries (could they be called that?) were quelled— Mariku responded and suddenly all was good with the world. If anything, he sounded even remotely content with the world at that moment. Was it possible?

Bakura still felt like he said nothing wrong, though. He shouted what was a double-edged compliment-insult (he'd admit that) and Malik— well, Malik over-reacted. He had, hadn't he?

He didn't really think he _himself_ was at fault. He didn't think that at all… but then why did he feel so… so _guilty_? Touzoku Bakura did _not _feel guilt… but if he wasn't feeling _guilty _(which he wasn't), then what _was _he feeling? He honestly had no clue. What he _did_ have a clue to was that chemistry was going to be awkward.

He and Mariku parted on good terms— it was like the punch to the face never happened even though the blue and purple bruise poking through the band-aid on Bakura's cheek said otherwise.

(-)

Chemistry wasn't what Bakura expected in the least.

He was almost 100% positive that Malik would still be livid about the fight from earlier and he'd probably have to listen to the brat's snide remarks the entire duration of the blocked class. If not that, he figured Malik wouldn't talk to him, or, even more extreme, he would move desks

Did the idea entirely bother Bakura? Not really, but it still did in the slightest bit which threw his internal thoughts for a demented loop. Something bothered him as he strode down the hallway to the Technology Wing of the school— he had no idea what _specifically_, but it was enough to get on his nerves.

Maybe the falling messed up his head more than he thought. Perhaps slight dizziness and an aching headache weren't the only side effects. Now he was going to go crazy, too. Great.

When Bakura walked in, Malik was in his normal seat. The white-haired teen frowned a bit, waiting for the rabid fire remarks. Malik looked up and— to Bakura's shock— actually smiled at his lab partner. Bakura stared, face showing clear surprise— he didn't even bother to hide it as he studied the other.

"Hey," the Egyptian chirped, and the smile fell a little bit. "I heard Mariku hit you. How's your cheek?"

Bakura hesitated as he walked over slowly. "Fine." He sat down in his chair (Malik didn't do anything to it as far as he could tell— no glue on the seat, all four legs were sturdy and whatnot), eyes watching the other boy carefully. Was he planning something? Did he plan something already? This wasn't the Malik he knew— that one would've been pissed all week, more than likely, or the one that would've held his nose high and ignored him bitterly. He saw no signs of fury or anger, or even vague annoyance.

What the hell was going on?

Malik was oblivious to the white-haired boy's inner 'turmoil' as he smiled. "That's good," the blonde replied, nodding. He went back to reading the book in his grasps without much more of a thought. "Looks like it's not too bad of a bruise."

"… Yeah," Bakura agreed quietly, wondering to himself if Mariku had done something to mentally damage his twin. What sensible person wasn't mad after they ran out of the room basically crying? Especially because this was _Malik _they were talking about. Malik didn't do the quick "forgive and forget" ordeal. Hell, Bakura _himself_ didn't even do it— so why the hell was Malik acting so weird? He came to the conclusion that Mariku must've swapped places with him (although it definitely didn't sound like the older twin's voice) or just mentally damaged him.

"You have gym before this, right?" Malik continued. There was still no malicious tone in his voice. "Hopefully you and my brother didn't get into it." He turned to look at Bakura again, smiling. "He gets really protective sometimes, for whatever reason. I'm sorry."

Bakura almost felt his jaw drop. Only almost. Instead, he stared in bewilderment, and almost irritation, at the Egyptian beside him. "… You… you've _got_ to be kidding—"

The bell ringing and the teacher beginning to talk drowned out the rest of his sentence. Malik, having only caught the first few words, only shrugged and with another smile, turned to his notes. Bakura stared at him, mind reeling, before shaking his head slowly. He muttered something similar to a curse and turned his gaze from the blond boy next to him down to his notes.

His mind ended up wandering.

While Malik— like the good student he was— filled out his notes, the sound of the pencil being a testament to that, Bakura was half-heartedly scribbling in the blanks with whatever word came to his mind. He kept noting how Malik's arm would inch towards him but soon enough he realized the actual reason: Malik's dominant hand was the opposite of his, and because of the side he sat on, they kept almost bumping into each other. So he was left-handed. Maybe he should bring that up soon. Not now, though.

It sort of bothered him, still, why Malik wasn't angry. He couldn't figure out why he cared whether Malik was or not, because if the Egyptian wasn't angry then he was out of the storm. He was in the clear. That was a good thing, wasn't it? It wasn't like he wanted to apologize or anything (and he didn't), because he didn't regret saying what he did, but he had to wonder. Was Malik putting up a front?

Finally, his curiosity had reached its peak. Tearing out a page from his notebook, he quickly scribbled something down before shoving it unceremoniously onto Malik's notes, causing the Egyptian to stop dead in the midst of writing. Raising a delicate brow, Malik poked the note with his pencil and dragged it down a bit more into his vision.

[_Ishtar. Aren't you mad at me?_]

The Egyptian blinked a few times before scrawling back an answer. That was weird, why would Bakura of all people care? Regardless, he shrugged it off and slipped the note back over to Bakura's side of the desk after writing his reponse. The white-haired boy absently tugged it over and read it.

[_I was. I'm not anymore.  
>(P.S: You used the wrong katakana for my name.)<em>]

Bakura frowned. He glanced to Malik, but the violet eyes were fixated on the screen up at the front of the room. Rolling his own eyes, Bakura jotted back a reply.

[_I find that hard to believe, with the way you are._  
><em>(and then what the hell is it?)<em>]

[_If you say so, but I'm not mad. It's true, what you said after all.  
>(I-<em>shu_-taa-ru. It's not _shi_. That's what my sister decided.)_]

Bakura froze after he read it, confusion whirling around in his head. It was _true_? No, he doubted that. He was just blowing steam (and that was a stupid way to write his last name, what was his sister thinking) after Malik managed to piss him off and all the banter beforehand was just Bakura running his mouth. He tended to do that without really realizing it. Ryou hated it.

He looked to Malik, staring at him with a frown. Malik didn't look back. Lowering his eyes, Bakura returned his gaze back to the paper and writing his last note.

[_I need to talk to you about something. After school?_]

Malik looked confused after his eyes scanned the (somewhat sloppy) writing. It took up the rest of the page, leaving him no room to write. He flipped the paper over, but the backside was covered with random phrases, notes, and doodles. No room, either. With a sigh, Malik glanced to his partner and waited to catch his attention. When Bakura didn't notice him, he reached out and poked the boy's arm. When he didn't react to that, Malik opted to simply grab the wrist that was furiously jotting down the notes he had ignored. It stopped him in his tracks. Bakura tensed up for the briefest moment before looking over in annoyance at the boy, wearing a clear "what do you want?" sort of expression.

Malik ignored the irritability as he nodded and mouthed "sure," a soft smile gracing his lips before retracting his hand and shoving the note back to its "owner" almost pointedly to show he couldn't have written a response. The violet eyes returned to the screen and finished what he had been writing before the distraction, not even taking a second glance to his lab partner.

The white-haired boy cringed a bit, feeling his wrist burning where the other boy touched him. It was an odd feeling that was somewhat frustrating him, because he couldn't place exactly why it felt like that. Maybe he had a really low body temperature and Malik ran higher. Yeah. That must've been it.

Bakura stared at Malik for a moment longer before returning his eyes to his (actual chemistry) notes, absently stuffing his ('_and Malik's_') note into his pocket.

Chemistry dragged on, it felt like to Bakura. Soon enough though, it ended, as did the day— Malik walking out first with Bakura trailing a bit behind, the two boys left the chemistry room and ventured down the hallway towards their lockers.

"So. What did you want to talk about?" Malik prompted, shifting his bag as they walked. He glanced back over his shoulder a bit, noting that Bakura was hanging back. The white-haired boy eventually quickened his pace just a little, only to still stay about a pace behind.

Bakura stiffened beside him, before finally he was able to spit it out. "It's not true."

Malik looked at him, shocked. "What?" (No, he was confused. Bakura had read it wrong.) "Uhm, what's not?"

Bakura didn't answer, he only kept talking as if Malik never said anything. "It's not true, and you're the last person that should be giving an apology, Ishtar."

Even though the rambling was hard to follow, Malik managed to stay slightly kept up. Okay, so Bakura was saying something wasn't true and Malik shouldn't be apologizing for something. What for? Wait, oh, he apologized for _that _thing—

"My psychopathic brother beat you up," Malik replied, raising an eyebrow. "I think I can apologize for that, since it's not like he will, and it was _my _fault he got so pissed off."

"It _wasn't_ your fault, and he was just being a big brother. I would've done the same thing if…" There was the briefest moment of hesitation. "If he talked like that to Ryou."

They both fell silent.

Malik shifted his bag again, a bit awkwardly. He kept his eyes to the ground, trying to take in everything the other boy was saying but not really sure how to respond.

He didn't have to. Bakura spoke again. "I was caught up. Blowing steam." He paused, eyes forward blankly. "Yeah— you're a brat, pretty annoying, awfully feminine, and sometimes I question your intelligence, but…" he sighed, looking at Malik with a frown. "Your body isn't the only reason someone would like you. Okay? So, it's not true."

What that a subtle apology that Malik heard? Surprised, he tore his eyes from the ground to stare at Bakura and, for one moment, their eyes locked.

In that very moment, something passed in Bakura's eyes. Malik couldn't place it for as quick as it was there, it was gone. Had it been sympathy? Guilt? The Egyptian wasn't sure. He decided to just not say anything, because it was none of his business. Maybe nothing had passed at all, and he was imagining it.

Bakura knew exactly what he had felt.

Desire.

He kicked himself for even thinking the idea, tearing his gaze away from Malik almost guiltily. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunching a bit as he kept his eyes focused bitterly forward. Don't think about it. Don't even think _about _thinking about it.

Malik spoke up, successfully breaking the internal conflict of Bakura's train of thought. It was derailing, anyway.

"Thanks, Bakura," the blonde said hesitantly as if waiting for the other teen to take it back. He didn't. "I over-reacted a bit. I know I did. So, I'm s—"

"Hey. Broken Record, I told you: don't apologize," Bakura cut him off, holding up his hand. He still didn't look at him as they arrived at his locker. After messing with his combination and opening his locker, Bakura started packing what he needed into his bag (which was basically nothing, he didn't feel like homework that night).

"You're adamant on that," Malik commented with a smirk. "I would've thought you'd be lording this over my head, parading about how I over-reacted like a girl or something."

Bakura snorted. "You _did_ over-react, I don't argue that… but I argue what I said, at least some of it— however, I don't take it back."

"I didn't expect you to."

Malik was suddenly grinning at him, doing an emotional-180. Bakura couldn't help but smirk back, letting out a "hn" of amusement. "Good," he began, his smirk widening, "because I won't."

"That's fine with me," Malik replied with a laugh as they walked down the hallway to the last "stop." Bakura ambled with Malik down to his locker, still feeling really awkward. He leaned against the nearby wall, frowning as he watched Malik's back and movements. He was still talking; there was a grin on his face and chuckles erupting from his lips as he rambled on about something that Bakura didn't really catch.

The feeling of desire passed again as Bakura looked at the boy smiling and laughing. The wave of strange emotion didn't pass as quickly this time, but it still made him want to kick himself. Suddenly, against all his normal nature, all he wanted to do was shut Malik up, crush his lips to his, and hungrily crave for the taste of his mouth. What did he taste like, anyway?

That was an awkward thought. Moving on.

Bakura was suddenly aware of how, dare he say, _gorgeous_ Malik was. The amethyst eyes that sparkled with amusement when he got his way, the sandy blonde hair framing his sun kissed tan face, his thin body that moved to a rhythm all his own— it was an understatement to say Malik was eye-candy. Bakura was only vaguely aware he was staring (and practically molesting the boy with his eyes) until Malik spoke again.

"I have to start walking home so I don't get back too late," the Egyptian announced, still softly smiling. "So, I'll see you later, okay?"

"Oh, yeah… Er, see ya," Bakura replied with an absent wave as the other teen started to walk away. "Hey!" he called after suddenly. Malik stopped and glanced over his shoulder. "Mariku's not going with you?" Bakura added, frowning.

Malik shook his head. "He has try-outs, and I don't want to wait for him."

"Ah." Bakura rubbed the back of his head. "Wait, try-outs for what?"

"Uh, what do you call it here… Football?" The Egyptian shrugged, hands up in a "who knows" sort of gesture. "The sport with the weird shaped ball. It's brown. Guys wear helmets and tackle each other for it like it's some girl they're fighting for, or something. I think it's stupid. How is it manly— eh, anyway, is that it? Football?"

If Bakura was the type to be easily amused, he would've laughed at the description the younger Ishtar twin had just offered— but since he wasn't, he only snorted. He smirked, shaking his head. "… Yeah, that's it. So why is he trying out for that? I thought he was on the lacrosse team."

"Was." Malik reiterated, pointing one finger at Bakura with a chuckle. "Ask him about that one. I gotta go, say 'hi' to Ryou for me!" Malik was now jogging down the (basically empty) hallway backwards, waving.

Bakura coughed ("what an idiot") and bid another goodbye before walking off to find his brother.

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<strong>

**(1) **This is almost solely because the authoress does not know how to play Lacrosse and while she sucks at Football, she at least knows a bit more of how it works. Plus, you _know _Mariku was bound to hurt somebody in a game like that.

* * *

><p>Gasp, relationship development! Haha, I was tempted to hack-out the last scene and put it off until the next chapter, but I figured that with the way I want things to move along, it was easier to just leave it there. So, you get a longer-ish chapter to appease you for now, while I recover from my arm trauma.<p>

Next up, things you didn't expect! Or maybe you did. I mean, one person has, although I doubt we should really take Bakura's word for much of anything other than suggestion. Or white-noise.

Anyway: **Read & Review & Critique please!**

You guys all shocked me the last time I uploaded a chapter! I normally get like one review right away, this time I had 4 or 5! Eep. You all make me blush [swoons a bit]~ Also, on a random note: MY ITALICS WORK AGAIN. I don't know why, it's not like I saved it any differently. How queer. [toddles off to get pain meds]


	8. Ch 7: Dark Alleys and a Bad Idea

**The X-Effect**

- ThiefShipping: Yami Bakura x Malik -

- DeathShipping: Yami Mariku x Ryou -

* * *

><p>Oh gosh, I was so over-due with this! I'm really sorry, everyone. I had a lot of trouble getting this to progress the way I wanted to and my wrist was hurting for the longest time, no thanks to some early on-set arthritis or tendonitis!<p>

Anyway, so I hope you all aren't mad I took so long. Like I said, this part was never really… planned. It was really a last-minute decision so working everything in the way I want it to be is sort of annoying and difficult.

But! Regardless, I hope it suits your fancy and it's not too bad…

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7: Dark Alleys and a Bad Idea<strong>

* * *

><p>Malik had to walk home by himself, since his brother had decided to spontaneously try-out for football. He supposed he <em>could've <em>waited at the field, watched his brother break some (other players') bones and then walked home with him, but it wasn't exactly his idea of "fun." He didn't want to hang around that late and he knew that, somehow, Mariku would drag him into trying out and that would not go over well _at all_.

So, he stopped by the field quick to tell his brother he was leaving before shuffling off down the road on the long path towards his home.

He should really invest in a cheap bicycle or something, because walking always took forever. How much were bikes, anyway? Well, he was walking through the city anyhow. He should check. It wasn't like anyone would be home anyway, so he didn't have to _rush _or anything…

Shifting his bag on his shoulder, he sighed, glancing around the various shops that lined the streets. None seemed to have anything but clothes, nothing that even hinted at a bicycle. A shirt had a bicycle on it, but he decided that didn't count. He couldn't use that for transportation, although that was vastly cheaper more than likely.

Another sigh.

It'd take too long to find a bike store, and he didn't have money anyway. It was easier to just go home. He glanced down an alleyway, noting a street sign on the other side that he recognized— he could save a few minutes by cutting through here, instead of walking around the block. Without another thought, the blond boy started down in, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

'_I wonder if I have everything I need for tonight. Let's see, I had science homework, literature notes to go over…_'

His train of thought was cut short by a loud bang erupting from the nearby garbage cans, cardboard boxes, and dumpster. Malik raised an eyebrow, going to turn around and check it out (probably just a cat) when he felt a strong hand grab his arm. "Wha—?"

"Well! Look who we have _here_," a throaty and somewhat oddly pitched voice growled. "If it isn't _Ishtar_."

Malik paled. He knew that voice, and he knew it well. He glanced up and managed a small, awkward smile. "Uh, _hey_ Takanaka, er, san…" He regarded the taller and leaner boy with a wary eye. Takanaka wasn't exactly the most muscular of the men (and as young as he looked, he certainly wasn't a "boy" seeing as he was almost 24) that worked alongside the Ishtar twins at the museum, but he had the agility to make up for it— that, and a _wicked_ left hook and grip. Sometimes Malik wondered how the green-haired man could even see to hit somebody in general with that mop of hair flailing around in his face.

The black and blue bruise situated around his right eye brought out the anger in those yellow irises, and Malik _knew _that this wasn't going to be good. Takanaka looked furious and ready to fight. Mariku had, obviously, gotten into a brawl with him (hadn't that been why he came home early the one day?) and gave him one hell of a black eye. Though if that was true, then why was Takanaka talking to h… Oh.

'_Shit. _Shit._ He thinks I'm _Mariku—!'

"L-Listen!" Malik started quickly, trying to squirm out of Takanaka's grasps. "I, er, you got the wrong guy, it's-it's not _me _you want—" He managed to pull his arm away and back up, holding his one hand up defensively while the other clutched at his bag strap.

Takanaka only laughed and took a step forward. Malik matched it by backing up, but the man kept that smirk on his face. "I think I know your face, _Ishtar_," he spat, smirk falling and contorting into a dark scowl. Most of it was hidden by his bangs. "Hard to forget such an _ugly mug_. Change your hair all you like, I'd recognize you a_ mile _away."

"S-seriously! Takanaka, you want my brother! My twin! We-we're identical, remember? We're twins, right?" Malik pleaded (god he hated that but the situation was calling for it), but it was falling on deaf ears. More backing up matched by stepping forward. Malik swallowed nervously and felt his skin crawl as his back hit the wall.

This wasn't good _at all_.

(-)

Malik practically broke the door throwing it open and then slamming it shut as he came home. It took an extra hour to get back and by now, Ishizu was home. Said black-haired woman looked up from the book she was reading on the couch as she heard one of her brothers come in. Frowning, she was about to chide him for all the noise until the blond actually made his appearance— and she _saw_ his appearance.

"Malik!" She gasped, shooting up and rushing over to him. The book fell off the couch, forgotten and closed, as Ishizu grasped at her baby brother's face and shoulders, checking him over. "What happened? Are you okay?"

The blond blew a strand of hair out of his face, irritably glaring at nothing in particular. "Oh, I'm just _peachy_," he seethed sarcastically. "No I'm _not_ okay! I hate genetics, they can go to _hell_!" He announced childishly, almost pouting. "I got beat-up because of that crap! You know how 'Riku got into that fight with Takabaka? Yeah, well, I took a shortcut to get home—don't give me that look— and apparently he was being a creeper and hiding behind a dumpster or something for some creeper reason and he thought I was Mariku so he creepily jumped me and beat me up!" Malik finished the angry rant by tossing his bag to the floor, glaring at it as if the entire ordeal had been its fault.

Ishizu was wiping dirt off his clothes now, combing his hair worriedly as she looked over him. "Ohh, dear… That boy is so much trouble!"

"Takabaka?" Malik provided. His sister frowned.

"Don't call him that, it's rude— and no, your brother." Ishizu sighed and begun to delicately push Malik towards the bathroom so she could properly look over him. "How many times have I told you not to take shortcuts? What if you got stabbed or kidnapped or something? What would I do then?"

"Sis."

She ignored him, continuing to prattle on as she basically shoved her bother down the hall. "I can't believe this. You don't have a concussion or anything, right? Is your vision blurry? Are you aware of any bleeding?"

"_Sis_."

"Why were you alone anyway? He is supposed to walk home with you! If he ditched you, I swear to the Gods—"

"_Sis!_ Calm down!" Malik ordered as she forced him to sit on the oddly placed stool in the bathroom. She finally quit talking, although she looked incredibly annoyed at being interrupted. Malik ignored the face. "I'm not dying, _relax_. My vision's not blurry, I don't have a concussion, and I'm not bleeding profusely or anything— I just got some cuts and a few bruises."

Ishizu may of got a few of her questions answered, but she suddenly looked almost scarily furious. "And _why_ exactly _wasn't_ your brother _with _you?"

'_Gack! That look she's giving me…! I feel like I'll burst into a pile of ashes—_' "He has football try-outs today after school and I didn't want to wait for him," Malik explained cautiously.

"Well, _he_— wait, football? What happened to lacrosse?"

"… Ask him about that one."

Ishizu just shook her head, sighing. "Sometimes he's more stress than he's worth," she mumbled. She was swiping at Malik's face with a wet rag now, absently clicking her tongue in disapproval as the dirt and blood washed off. After a moment she gently ran her thumb over his forehead, frowning. "It looks like you're swelling up a bit, here. A goose egg."

"Oh. Yeah. I guess I'm not surprised," Malik replied, glancing up with his eyes as if he could actually see the growing bump on his forehead. "He was throwing punches and the one time I ducked to avoid a black-eye, he hit me in the forehead instead," he explained with a shrug. "In retrospect, probably a worse idea." '_Can't that rattle your brain or something? Well, even if it can I probably shouldn't tell _her _that…_'

Ishizu turned to the cabinet and begun getting out some band-aids and a bottle of alcohol to wash out a few of the cuts. When she turned back around to continue tending to him, she was frowning and shaking her head once more. "Well, do you feel okay?"

"Yeah." The blond boy nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just some superficial things, I'm sure," Malik stated absently as he looked over his arms with a curious glance. "Nothing feels broken or anything."

"Good." Ishizu gave her own nod, placing a few band-aids on her youngest brother's face. "That's one good thing at least. Is anything else bleeding or—?"

The front door opened and Ishizu, having ears like cat, heard it immediately as she turned to listen. She narrowed her eyes a bit as it shut and then, finally, a voice called out: "Hey! I'm home!"

Sister instincts proved right: Mariku had returned. She glanced absently to Malik from the corner of her eye, murmuring, "Stay here." She walked out of the bathroom and down the hallway. Mariku's voice, muffled, was heard before suddenly Ishizu's—loud and clear— snapped overtop.

'_He's not gonna hear the end of this for awhile_,' Malik mused to himself, tugging his jacket and shirt off. He probably had some cuts on his arms, considering the way certain places were vaguely burning. He looked over them with a bored eye, lips pursed in thought. '_Stupid identical DNA._'

"He _what_—? He got beat up!"

The bathroom door was suddenly pushed open the rest of the way. Mariku was in the doorway, looking his twin up and down with a whistle. "Damn, you did! Huh. Well, on the bright side, I think I'm on the team!" Mariku announced with a grin, switching the topic entirely.

Malik bristled. "I got beat up because of _you_, you know," he commented dryly.

"Oh." Mariku shrugged dismissively. "Sorry, bro. Anyway," his expression brightened a bit, "I got told that my skills are _impeccable_ and I got a great shot at being some awesome position!"

"Good for you," Malik muttered, about to cross his arms but thinking twice of it. With a sigh, he just grabbed the rag and begun to wash off his arms a bit and did his best to ignore his brother. Ishizu was suddenly behind his twin, shoving him unceremoniously out of the way with a reprimanding glare at him. She snatched the rag from Malik and kept cleaning him up, every now and then turning to give a nasty look to the older twin. Mariku didn't notice and only leaned on the doorframe.

Randomly, the spiky-haired twin spoke up: "Hey, is this a bad or a good time to say I got detention by the way?"

Ishizu jolted a bit before turning around, hands on her hips— if looks could kill. "_Honestly_!" She exclaimed, exasperated as she glared harshly at him. "Can you behave for once in your life?"

"… So it's a _bad_ time, then—"

"Go do your homework!" Ishizu threw the rag at him, huffing. Mariku dodged the offending object easily and sweat-dropped, awkwardly leaving the bathroom as Malik started to laugh. His family was weird.

(-)

The next day, Bakura couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen.

It started when he woke up. He was used to knocking the alarm off the nightstand because that was a daily occurrence. Today? It broke. When it fell, it managed to hit "just right" on its side and it legitimately broke apart. He grabbed the remains and went to throw them out, but Ryou said he "knew someone who could fix it" since they couldn't afford a new one. If he said so. Now it sat awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen table, distracting him from his tea.

The feeling of "impending doom" only got worse as the twins walked to school. Nothing happened, no, but the weird squirming in his stomach was beginning to get unsettling. Ryou must've picked up on it, for he voiced at least some concern if Bakura was feeling sick, but didn't press it once the other boy said he was fine— a lie if there ever was one (and there were plenty).

When Bakura walked into the classroom of first period by himself (Ryou insisted on hanging out with Yugi and crew), he was met with a familiar sight: Mariku was sitting on the nearby desk, prattling on about "I am _sorry_, my gods, you freaking brat— accept the apology already!" while Malik moodily glared at him and snapped his replies as he crossed his arms.

Raising an eyebrow, Bakura walked over. "What's got _your _guitar out of tune?" He asked, unable to resist a cocky smirk. Malik turned and glared at him— it was then Bakura noticed the bandages and bruises. '_Well, well, aren't we just two peas in a pod?_'

"At the moment? _You_," Malik retorted icily.

"It's not even the beginning of class and you're already in a bad mood. That's a record," Bakura snorted as he sat down in his seat, throwing his feet up on top of the desk as he leaned back casually. "What's wrong with your face, anyway? Not that that's entirely unusual considering there's always something wrong." He paused, looking over the blonde with a calculating eye. "Your brother beat you up, too?"

"Shut up," Mariku quickly but calmly hissed, sliding off the desk almost as if to size up the other boy. "I don't hit my _brother_."

'_That was oddly defensive_.' "Calm down," Bakura instead said smoothly. "Don't over-react. Hmph… that must run in the family."

Malik, barely hearing the insults that had been thrown at him, only scowled. "No, I was on my way home and because _somebody _pissed off someone _else_ and I just happen to look exactly _like _the somebody, that _someone _beat _me_ up because that actual somebody made me go home alone!" Violet eyes narrowed and were taken back to Mariku, who glared back and crossed his arms.

"Oh, get over it, okay? I apologized way more than I should've already," the elder twin commented dryly. "He should be able to tell us apart anyway… Does _no one _look at our hair, for Ra's sake?"

"He thought that 'I' just wore it down so that he'd think 'I' was 'you.'"

The other Egyptian boy's nose scrunched. "He over-thought _that _one too much."

"Shocking, isn't it."

Bakura only shook his head, noticing he had been pretty much opted out of the conversation at that moment. Deciding he didn't want to be ignored, he chimed back in: "So, you got beat up the same day I got beat up, and Mariku was pretty much the cause of both of our injuries…" He smirked, starting to bark a coarse laugh as Mariku suddenly looked both furious and almost flustered at the same time.

"Shut up, or else I'll give _you _a black-eye too!" Mariku snapped, slamming his hands onto the desk in frustration. He looked ready to make true to his words (and further the point that he was the source of all injuries) when Ryou walked into the room, chirping his greeting to the two Egyptians. Mariku muttered something under his breath and sat down, crossing his arms irritably again. Ryou glanced the boy, slightly concerned, before he took his eyes to Malik.

"Good morning, Malik-kun. Is everything okay? It seems very tense in here today," the white-haired teen commented tentatively as he glanced back to Mariku. He smiled wanly as he returned his gaze to the other Egyptian twin, before suddenly gasping. "Oh my! Your face! What happened?"

Malik rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, laughing a bit. "Oh. Uh, g'mornin', Ryou… I just ran into a bit of trouble, it's nothing."

Ryou frowned, setting his bag on the desk. "That's no good. You're all right, yes?"

"Oh, yeah, I just got a few bruises and—" Malik lifted one side of his bangs, showing the large blue and black bump that was messily covered with a band-aid, "— this goose-egg."

The fawn-eyed boy shook his head, frown deepening. "That's terrible, Malik-kun…"

A snort. "Kind of looks like he got into a fight with a table, doesn't it?"

"_Bakura_!"

Malik only smirked. "If that's what I look like, then it's what _he _looks like as well."

The mahogany eyes narrowed dangerously before Bakura returned with his own cocky smirk. "Ah. Touché." He waved a hand absently. "At least with my table fight, I _won_."

"Oh, _fuck you_," the blond boy seethed, but the only response he got was the rough sound of the British teen's laugh. Bakura wasn't going to let that go, he was sure.

By the time Chemistry had come and gone, Malik was at least somewhat proud to be right. Bakura _hadn't _just given up the teasing. All throughout chemistry, the white-haired boy continually "warned" Malik of the "approaching" tables and to "be wary of their deadly corners."

Malik was fine ignoring him until the "suave English boy" actually tripped him and the Egyptian fell to the floor. He didn't get a cut or bruise thankfully (he wasn't paper-thin skinned after all) but it did serve for more of Bakura's amusement. Malik flipped him off and later shut Bakura's hand in the desk drawer.

They called it "even" at that point.

(-)

Again.

It was bugging him _again_.

That feeling Bakura had earlier? It was still there. It was far past the end of the school day now (something he had barely noticed passed by), Bakura was sitting at home and the gnawing sensation in his stomach wouldn't go away. Now it was hard to distinguish if he was A) going crazy and simply imagining things, or B) something _was _going to happen. It had started almost practically before he even woke up and when he was in school, it got worse. It was a bit better now, but as he sat and thought about the day he couldn't think of one time that he didn't recall that odd churning in his stomach.

A loud clattering brought Bakura from his thoughts. Rising to his feet, the older twin wandered into the kitchen. He was met with a sight he wished he could say was unfamiliar: Ryou looking upset, ready to cry, and frustrated all at once, his hand dribbling a thin line of blood, and shards of plates scattered around his feet.

"You're a klutz," the older twin remarked bitterly, sweeping the glass up absently into the dustpan. He thought taking his mind off everything would help, but the feeling didn't go away as he helped to pick up the shards (carefully). "What even happened?"

"S-sorry," Ryou replied meekly, holding his hand under the running water. It was still bleeding a bit. "I just spaced out, I guess, and when I dropped one plate I freaked out and dropped the other two. I cut myself trying to clean up…" He blushed, frowning as he bit his lip. "Do you think mother will be angry?"

"Maybe," Bakura remarked truthfully. "We have like, what, nine plates left now? Meh. Hey, who knows, she might not even realize we're missing some."

"Nine? A strange number… No, no. She'll notice." Ryou sighed, examining his finger. "The cut's not too deep, at least I don't think it is. Doubtful I'll need stitches."

"Good, because I wouldn't drive you to the hospital." Bakura stood up, cracking his back, and glanced over the floor. "I think I cleaned everything u—"

The phone ringing caused Ryou to jump, letting out a squeak, which in turn caused Bakura to become surprised. He dropped the dustpan and it clattered noisily to the ground, the shards flying all over the floor once more. Scowling darkly, Bakura glared at the mess as if it was its fault entirely and it would magically pick itself up before apologizing profusely and dumping itself into the trash. While his twin held a staring contest with the glass, Ryou calmed himself and moved quickly to the phone (making sure to avoid the shards yet again).

"H-hello?" The younger twin breathed, still slightly flustered. "Ba, uh, Bakura residence. Ryou Bakura speaking… Oh? Hello, what are you calling f…" The mahogany fawn eyes suddenly seemed confused. "Do we get the _what_? …Oh, I understand now. Yes, we do, why?" The white-haired boy wandered over to the table where that day's mail sat. He riffled through it absently, looking thoughtful. Bakura, now intrigued, was staring at his brother with a raised brow. Ryou ignored him. "It's right here. What did you… Oh, for _that _store? Yeah, I think we get an ad for that."

"Ad for what?" Bakura chimed in, wandering over and ignoring the mess.

Ryou glared. "Shh! … Oh, no, not you, just Bakura-nii."

"Who are you talking to?"

"_Bakura_, shh!" Ryou snapped again, turning his back to his brother who glared darkly at him. "I'm sorry. You were saying? … Ah, okay, well the ad is right here. Did you want it? I can save it for you… Monday? All right. I can do that, it's good until next week… Hm? Oh, all right. Goodbye and have a nice evening." Ryou awkwardly hung up, staring at the phone with an almost perplexed look.

Bakura, tired of being ignored, tapped his foot just a bit louder on the ground, which finally snapped Ryou out of his thoughts as he turned around. Bakura rolled his eyes, "_So_, who was _that_?"

"It was just Otogi-san," Ryou replied, frowning. "He was calling to see if we got a specific ad since he doesn't always get the paper. I told him he could have ours but I think he's giving it away to someone… I think he mentioned a name, perhaps it was Ishtar-san—"

"_Ryou_."

"What?"

"Say it with me. _Ma-ri-ku_."

Ryou looked indignant. "I will call him whatever I so please," he remarked, turning heel to go pick the glass that had now been dropped twice.

"I told you, he doesn't deserve the level of respect you give him," the older twin snapped. "And don't touch the glass— you'll cut yourself again, idiot." He crouched down and snatched the dustpan and hand broom from his brother. Ryou frowned but said nothing as he stood back up, hands on his hips with his lips pursed in thought.

"Don't drop it this time," Ryou commented absently. Bakura twitched, glaring over his shoulder at his twin.

"Look who's talking," came the dry remark.

Ryou ignored it and continued to pull out dishes to get ready for dinner, more carefully than he had before. 5 minutes passed and Bakura was just about to stand up and throw away the finally cleaned up glass… until, that is, the screech of a ringing telephone broke through the silence.

This time when it went off, Bakura didn't jump but instead _slammed_ the dustpan down onto the ground and stood up, grabbing the phone angrily. "_Yes_, hello, _what is it_?"

"… If you're going to answer it like _that_, you should've let me do it. How rude."

"Ryou, shut up!" Bakura snapped before glaring at the wall, indirectly hoping whoever was on the other line would burst into ashes. "Whoever this is, hurry up. I don't have time for this. My little brother's hand is bleeding—"

"Actually it's not—

"—There is glass all over the floor—"

"Well maybe if you hadn't slammed _the dustpan_—"

"—And we are _trying _to make _dinner_," Bakura finished in frustration, glaring daggers at his repeatedly interrupting brother. "So make this _quick_."

['… _Wow, I didn't even get a word in and you're _already_ mad at me?'_]

Bakura's stomach churned as he grit his teeth. "Oh great, it's you." '_Malik, of _course_._' "What the hell do _you_ want?"

['_No need to be snippy, geez… Could I talk to Ryou?'_]

"No."

[_'Hand the phone off, _Cloudy_, I need to ask him something about literature class tomorrow._']

Bakura growled. "Great, good to hear you're picking up your moronic brother's _lovely _nicknaming habit," he hissed. "Ryou can't talk, I already told you he's_ bleeding_—"

['_Well you really shouldn't answered the phone then, now should you._']

The white-haired boy fell silent, face a mix of confusion and anger that made Ryou laugh a bit (inwardly, anyway).

Malik wasn't done. ['_That'd be sort of like me answering the phone while I was fighting off a burglar and being like: _Dammit Bakura, I can't talk at the moment I am _fighting for my life_ right now_!_'] A small pause. ['_Yeah, see, it makes no sense. I mean, answering machines were invented for a reason, right?_'] **(1)**

Bakura scowled darkly and shoved the phone at Ryou without another word, simultaneously dropping to the ground and his knees to finally pick up the glass. Ryou fumbled with the phone, blinking, and took it carefully to his ear. "Judging by my brother's words,I'm going to assume this is Malik-kun?"

[_'And for _another_ thi— Oh, Ryou-kun! Hey! Sorry. Uh, I have a question. Bakura thinks it's about literature, but it's not, so play along. Did my brother call you?_']

Ryou raised a brow. "No, he didn't… do that in the story," the white-haired twin added.

['_Ugh. I wonder who he _did_ call then… I'm getting kind of, uh, worried about him— that goes with you to your grave, by the way. He's been acting strange since we got off from work a few days ago. I think he's up to something. I tried confronting him and he said that I'm imagining it. But, I know there's _something_ going on. He's sneaking around.'_]

"That sounds worrisome," Ryou remarked quietly, setting the (in-tact) plates on the dining table. He frowned slightly, absently watching Bakura out of the corner of his eye as the other boy finished cleaning. "Sneaking around, huh. The book is… taking a plot-twist. I haven't read that far."

['_You're good at that… But, I don't know. Maybe it _is _just me,_'] Malik mumbled with a sigh. Ryou could just imagine him running his hand through his bangs and tugging at them. ['_Well, that aside I guess, thanks. Sorry for bothering you. Uhm, is your hand okay?_']

"Hm? Oh, yes, it's fine. My brother was over-exaggerating," Ryou laughed a little, looking at his finger while he did. "It's not bleeding anymore, and it wasn't that bad before, anyway. I think he'd be a good novelist with the way he spins things."

Malik laughed. ['_If you say so…_']

Bakura tuned out Ryou's conversation, dumping the glass bitterly into the trashcan. He made a point to slam it, but his twin simply ignored him and went about chatting with Malik. He felt his teeth grit together every now and then, mostly when Ryou would start laughing. Eventually, the younger twin bid his goodbye and hung up the phone a little happier than he was earlier. He liked talking to friends.

They ate dinner between the two of them, for their mother hadn't come home (when the phone rang for the third time that night, it being Michie to say she was working late, Ryou was glad he managed to grab the phone first). For the most part, it was silent. Ryou attempted to stir up conversation but it didn't work. It fell back into silence every time, Bakura barely responding if he decided to at all. Eventually, the younger twin gave up. Bakura cleaned up the dishes, not wanting his brother so much as near the objects lest he broke more.

Ryou didn't mind and just opted to treat himself to some ice cream they had in the freezer. He was more than content with it and he happily sat down on the couch to watch a movie before bed. He was in a fine mood, really.

His brother didn't share the sentiment.

Bakura ended up going to bed early, because that feeling in his stomach was worse almost to the point now that he felt sick and nauseous. Either something seriously bad was going to happen or… well, he didn't even know— that fact made his gut churn even more. With a shake of his head, he tried his best to ignore it as he nestled into bed and drew the covers up over his shoulder. He closed his eyes, breathing a sigh, and tried to let his thoughts clear.

Tomorrow was a new day, after all.

(-)

It was still there.

Still there, still there, _still freaking there_.

Malik let out a cry of frustration and tossed his school jacket to the ground. "This is annoying, that stupid blood stain is not coming out!"

He was talking to an empty house and that fact let him yell as much as he want— and was he, indeed, because he was so untimely angry he could barely fathom it at this point.

With an indignant snort, the blond glared darkly at the blue jacket that was lying in a mess on the floor. When Takanaka had beaten him up, he actually got a bad cut on his hand that had stopped bleeding by the time he got home, mostly because he had wrapped it up angrily in the inside of his jacket. The blood had stuck there but luckily not seeped through, although it was bothering Malik to no end now. It wasn't coming out and he had washed it at least three times now. The entire ordeal had taken up almost his whole day. It was mid-afternoon now. A perfect (more or less) Saturday—wasted.

"Stupid Takabaka," Malik hissed as he glared at the jacket.

It wouldn't magically become clean, he realized this, but he had tried everything he could think of and the blood was _not _coming out.

He fumbled through their chemical cabinet (why did it not have a lock? Seriously, who would leave this open and free with a person like Mariku around— he'd have to talk to his sister about that one) for stain removers. The three they had (two too many, if you asked him but regardless) did nothing. He almost was tempted to bleach it, but upon spilling a few drops onto the carpet, which in turn instantly became white (that got covered up) he realized it would be a bad idea in the long run.

Malik had even went into Rishid's room and used his elder brother's computer to research possibly "home remedies" or even things that other people recommended that he could go out and buy. Nothing he found "home-wise" worked (although he did manage to use up all the spice, Ishizu was not going to be happy when she figured that out) and all the products he found online he rationalized were no better than what he had in the cupboard.

All in all?

He gave up.

"Maybe if I get a blue marker…" Malik's train of thought didn't progress past that (which could be considered a good thing) once he heard the door handle jiggle. He glanced over his shoulder, waiting for it to open. It didn't. The only thing that happened was the sudden loud pounding of someone more than likely slamming their fist and demanding entry. Raising an eyebrow, he turned and walked over, peering out the peephole.

Mariku stood on the other side, looking frustrated as ever. He kicked the door this time, growling, "Openthe _door_, you idiot! I know you can hear me!"

Malik rolled his eyes. For the third time that week, Mariku had forgotten his keys. Grabbing the doorknob, he twisted it and skirted back just enough to let his brother slam the door into the wall angrily. "You seem happy."

His twin didn't respond, only threw his coat onto the rack carelessly. After a moment, he strode into the kitchen and sat down at the table, head in his chin. "Why are the laundry detergents and crap all out?" he asked, sounding bored as he examined the containers of cleaners on the counter and table. He picked up one of the 'home remedies' that Malik had construed, eyeing it skeptically. "What's this?"

"I was doing laundry," Malik snapped, snatching the bottle from his brother with a glare.

The other twin looked puzzled as he seemed to forget about the strange concoction he had just been holding. "In the kitchen?"

"Shut up!" Malik retorted, huffing as he went to the closet door in the hall and shoved the chemicals onto the shelf. "I was carrying them around and accidentally left them in there, okay?" The blond justified weakly, striding back into the kitchen. Mariku only rolled his eyes, not looking amused in the least.

"Yeah, okay," he replied absently with a wave of his free hand. "Did you happen to do my dirty clothes too, then?"

"Do them yourself."

"What? You prick."

"Bum."

"_Jerk_."

"_Lazy ass_— okay, no, are we _really_ going to do this?" Malik finally snapped, exasperated after only a few volleys of insults.

"Well, you started it," Mariku retorted off-handedly. He fell silent regardless, eyes trailing to the newspaper that lay crumpled on the table before him. "What happened to this thing? Looks like it got put through the shredder before finding its way into a blender …"

"It fell to the floor and got caught under the chair without my noticing," Malik replied absently, glaring at his brother from the corner of his eye. "You're in a bad mood."

Mariku let out a groan, tugging angrily at his bangs for a moment before heaving a deep sigh. "It's just…" he hesitated for the briefest moment, "work. You know how it is."

"Another ornery customer?" Malik questioned, hoping to see if maybe a reoccurring and obnoxious patron was the reason his brother had been so off lately. It had happened before.

"No. I mean, yes. Well, sort of," Marik rambled for a moment. "There's been quite a few, but that's not the reason really." He shrugged absently, leaning back in the chair and kicking his feet up onto the table and crossing them. Malik glared and motioned for him to put them down. He was ignored. "Hey, do you think Ishizu and Rishid will ever buy a car or something?"

"A car?" The younger twin mimicked, glancing over with a bemused expression. "We can barely afford the mortgage and insurance, let alone a car payment and _its_ insurance on top of it. We don't really need one anyway, we all work right in town. We can walk or carpool like our siblings do."

His brother made no remark other than grunt. He clasped his hands behind his head, looking up to the ceiling thoughtfully. "Hey, Mal?"

Malik glanced over skeptically but said nothing.

Mariku continued anyway. "Do you talk to that Ryuji character at all?"

"Ryuji?"

"The kid who keeps hitting on you? What was it… Er, Otogi. That's it— his surname, it's Otogi," Mariku absently waved a hand. "Him. Do you talk to him?"

"No," Malik admitted as he raised a brow. "I really don't. You're on a first name basis with him, I see?"

"Sort of. Forgot his last name mostly. So, you don't talk to him at all?"

"Generally that's what 'no' represents in response to the context of that question," Malik replied, turning his nose up just a bit. "_No_, I don't talk to _Otogi_. Our paths don't really cross. Why do you ask?"

His brother only shrugged. "No reason."

"You always have a reason," Malik pointed out dryly, turning towards the cabinets and beginning to fumble through them for some rice. Once he found it, he pulled the bag down and washed his hands absently before he begun to cook. "So, come on, why did you bring him up?"

Mariku's eyes narrowed and suddenly, he had slammed his hands on the table and stood up. Malik jumped and turned around, surprised to see his brother looking furious. Mariku snarled, "_Shut up_, okay? Maybe I'm just fucking _curious _about something, do I always haveto _explain_ this shit to you? I don't always _have _to have a _reason _for things!"

Taken back, Malik blinked, carefully examining his twin. "Hey… Calm down, 'Riku," he started slowly, holding his one hand up defensively as the other groped to turn the faucet off. "I was just saying, all right—"

"Maybe I was, _too_! You don't know everything, okay! Leave me _alone_!"

Malik watched Mariku storm out of the kitchen, down the hallway, and back to their bedroom before loudly slamming the door. The younger twin stood there, dishtowel in hand, and eyebrows knit together in worry. Something was either seriously wrong already or something seriously wrong was going to _happen_.

Malik suddenly missed his mother because, just as suddenly, he felt like one.

With a sigh, he hung the towel back up and begun to get out the pot for the rice.

He only hoped Mariku didn't do something he'd regret.

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<strong>

**(1) **This is a shout-out to my friend, haha. She works for a call center and people sometimes will answer during dinner angry that she called, so she ranted about that stuff. "If they're busy, then why _answer the phone_? Who doesn't have an answering machine nowadays?"

* * *

><p>And so, you were introduced to Takanaka and the awkward. Anyone have any guesses at all as to why the two older boys are so off? Bakura's got a bad feeling, Mariku's sneaking around… hopefully the chapter wasn't <em>too <em>much of a drag. I'm trying to keep it a little more together and flowing.

You can see a picture of Takanaka at (eminences . tumblr . com/post/7148861229/yugioh-fan-character-made-specifically-for-my)! Just remove the spaces and the brackets~

Anyway, **Read & Review & Critique please!**** Sorry again for the wait, everyone!**


	9. Ch 8: Subtle Relations

**The X-Effect**

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><p>- ThiefShipping: Yami Bakura x Marik -<p>

- DeathShipping: Yami Mariku x Ryou -

* * *

><p>One month later, I update. Did you think I died? This chapter was hell to do because it's so un-fun and… so… <em>filler<em>. I'm really sorry, but it was sort of needed. You get a bit more of a look into what Mariku and Malik do at work. A bit more on the relations… sort of.

I don't feel like rambling too much, haha.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8: Subtle Relations<strong>

* * *

><p>Malik really hated his job sometimes.<p>

The museum was supposed to be a remotely quiet place. It was rarely ever dead silent like a library (nor should it ever be like one, it was supposed to provoke discussion), but it was quiet enough that you could have many people in a room and the noise level would never be blistering and loud.

Today, however, was not one of those days because, also today, there was another school tour.

Glowering briefly at the group of grade school children that had come into the museum for an after-class tour, Malik attempted to talk over their shouts. "Kids, _kids_, come on, now! Keep your noise level lower— inside voices, right?" He forced a smile.

A particularly bratty purple-haired girl only stuck her tongue out at the blond. Malik hated that kid. Moko? Miki? Something with an M. He had no clue. She visited often with her class but despite that he never remembered her name. He decided he really didn't care.

He clapped his hands together a few times, surprised that the action actually caused the group of 11 or so to quiet down. Their teacher had basically left him to monitor the collection of brats by himself, something that Malik also wasn't unfamiliar with (nor particularly liked). Quick to seize the moment he had control over, the Egyptian boy motioned to the display behind him. "Now, kids! Do you know what this is?"

"No," one of the quieter children chimed in. Malik sort of liked her. She sort of looked like a sheep, acted like one too, but she was smart enough and loved hearing Malik spin tales.

"Nu-uh, tell us! Tell us!" Another little boy chimed in, excitedly bouncing a bit.

Malik grinned. It was fake. "Well, _this_ is the Roman Empire display. It's a warrior, leaving for battle. Do you know anything about that, kids?"

He must have repeated the same dialogue at _least _twice every day, close to 14 times a week. He could probably do it in his sleep if he really felt like it— but he didn't. So he went through the routine, he explained every floor and every room. He wove tales and spun stories— some fake, some true, some a combination of both. Eventually, he led them all to the gift shop and watched them with a careful eye until, finally, their teacher came and rounded them up. She left with a vague goodbye and thank you directed at Malik, who faked a grin before irritably snatching a magazine and starting to flip through it as he rested against the counter.

"You look ready to strangle someone."

"I am," Malik replied without hesitation. He glanced over to meet the amused gaze of his brother.

Mariku only laughed. He leaned on the counter top, chin in his hand with a grin on his face. "I see that Class A from Orimizaki was back."

"Class B," the other twin absently corrected, returning his eyes to the article. It was some lackluster story about the ancient Greeks that, despite his interest in the culture, didn't capture his attention at all. "They're a handful to say the least. Say, did that orange-haired fellow ever come back?"

"The one that was smoking in here and set the magazine rack on fire?"

"That's the one."

Mariku let out a low, dark chuckle. "Rishid took care of him for me since 'Orange' seemed so intent on returning."

"Ah. Well, anyway, I think one of the kids in that class was his," Malik explained with a shrug. "She was just as bratty and troublemaking— looked a lot like him, too. Think she mentioned her 'daddy' getting kicked out."

"A kid?" Mariku raised a brow, looking bored rather than curious. "I can't imagine him being married."

"I don't think he is."

"Then that would explain a lot. Hey, would you give that back?" Mariku snapped absently, reaching out to tug the magazine out of Malik's grip. Said twin glared at his brother, grabbing for it but Mariku only held it out of his reach with a scoff. "You always walk off with them, you little shop-lifter, then _I _end up paying for the stupid things."

Malik huffed. "One time."

"Try six."

"Oh it was _not _that many," the younger twin retorted, scrunching up his nose as he leaned over the counter once more, groping for the magazine held above his brother's head. Mariku didn't relent, only scowled.

"Debatable. My back pocket says otherwise, as does your desk space at home. Will you—_go do your job_!" Mariku quickly snapped, irritable, as he used his free to hand to shove his twin back by the face. "Off with ya, you're distracting me from _my _job and my customers!"

Malik stumbled back just a bit, rubbing his nose when he regained his footing. "_What _customers?" He glanced around the store, frowning. "There's nobody in here, you loon."

The older boy rolled his eyes. "There _will _be when you go and _do your job_," Mariku pointed out, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter top again. "Besides, the mop will report you to Boss if he catches you in here."

"The _what_?" Malik blinked, turning to his brother with confusion. "The mop? _Mop_? As in what the clean-up man uses?"

"… You're slow," the spiky haired boy huffed, grabbing the collar of his brother's shirt and tugging him close, hissing into his ear, "_Takanaka_, you moron."

Malik shoved him away, frowning. "What is it with you and nicknames?"

"People never know who I'm talking about then. I can towel on them in public and it nothing comes back to anyone!" The other boy announced gleefully, smirking sadistically.

"You can _what_ on them? Did you say towel?"

Mariku looked at his twin as if he was stupid. "Yeah, towel," he repeated slowly. He rolled his eyes as if to say '_geez you're stupid_.' "You know, like to make fun of 'em?"

Malik deadpanned. "…That's _rag_. You can _rag _on them in public, not _towel_. You idiot, that doesn't even make sense. Where are you picking up this slang and how are you managing to screw it up that much?"

"Shut up," the other blond retorted, glaring. "And if you're not going to buy something, get out or I'll call Rishid on you."

"Tattle-tale."

"Takes one to know one."

Malik rolled his eyes but stalked out of the store, at least managing a wave to his brother before stuffing his hands into his pockets. Truth was he had no other official tours lined up for the day. He could explore and just look at all the exhibits— because he did like doing that and it certainly killed a good amount of time— but he just didn't feel like it today. With a sigh, he sat down on the bench somewhat near the entrance and exit. Malik glanced up to the large stone skeleton that towered over him, the remains of some sort of dinosaur that he forgot the name of. He didn't know dinosaurs.

He closed his eyes and leaned against the back of the bench, just resting until he heard a voice break the quiet.

"Sir, may I ask you a question? You work here, right?"

Violet eyes opened slowly, and Malik straightened himself up. "Ah, yes I do… How can I help you, ma'am?" He looked into her eyes, a force of "polite habit" and couldn't help but notice the striking blue-green eyes she had and the piercing white hair that fell around and framed her face. She was wearing black pleated pants, feet adorned with brown and heeled sandals that looked a little beaten up, but still in good condition. Her long hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and the sea blue blouse-like shirt finished off her look.

Who did she look like? Did he know her?

"I was wondering, is there another entrance around here by any chance?" She asked softly, but her eyes were strong. Malik could tell that she was a fairly feisty woman if she wanted to be— a caged tiger.

"Oh." Malik glanced around a bit, as if to double-check himself before actually responding. "No, ma'am, this is the only one. I'm sorry."

She let out a small laugh. "Oh, well, I see. I suppose we just didn't cross paths at the right time… I can't find my son, that's all," she responded coolly, turning her head to look over her shoulder. "Have you been here long? Have you happened to see him, possibly?"

"How old is he, ma'am?" Malik asked, standing up and preparing to call Rishid to tell him there was a missing child. He hoped not, because this woman was being oddly calm about it, but he never knew. Perhaps she was going to pick up one of the grade school kids from that Class B group.

"About your age, I'd assume, if you're a teenager," the woman replied. She was still not looking at him. "You don't need to radio in for him or anything, if that's what you're about to do."

Malik just quietly slipped his walkie-talkie back into his pocket. "Are you sure, ma'am?"

"He's a big boy," she simply responded. Now she turned her head to meet his gaze, smiling softly. "I'm sorry for holding you up. Thank you."

With that, she bowed and walked off, her heels clacking noisily against the marble floor of the museum. Malik stared at her back for a moment before shaking his head, ruffling his hair. '_That was weird_,' he thought to himself. '_She really _does_ look familiar, though. I wonder if I'm just imagining things?_'

Adjust his jacket, the blond let out a sigh before starting to walk towards the basement. The cafeteria was down there, and he hadn't gotten his lunch break. He had just gone down a few steps when a flash of white going past the stairs at the bottom caught his eye. '_That woman again?_' he wondered, glancing in the direction the white went. '_How did she manage to get downstairs so fast? I saw her go towards the Wildlife exhibit…_'

He went down the rest of the flight and when he turned to his right, he felt more than little surprised at who he saw. Striking white hair and a light-blue jacket and skin as pale as paper, nearly. Sitting at the cafeteria and dining hall's table, swinging his feet with a book in his hand and eyes focused intently on it, was none other than—

"Ryou?"

Said white-haired boy looked up at his name, recognizing the voice, and immediately spun around. "Ah! Malik-kun!" Ryou chirped, snapping his book shut and started to get up, walking over towards him as Malik did the same. They met half way and the English boy smiled cheerfully. "Hello! What are you doing here?"

"I think that's a better question for you," Malik responded without skipping a beat, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "Why areyou here? Just visiting the museum or something?"

"Oh, yes! I love coming here," Ryou replied, shifting a bit as he stood there with the book clenched awkwardly in his hands. "I'm an, ah, fan of the wildlife centre and the British displays on the… what was it, second floor?"

"Third floor," Malik corrected without even thinking. "So you're a museum go-er, huh?" He smiled a bit. "Always good to hear, since I don't meet many nowadays. Come often?"

Ryou's porcelain cheeks flushed a bit. "Ah, yes, I am! I try to come once every few weeks," the teen admitted quietly, a smile forming on his lips as well.

"Are you all by yourself?" Malik looked around, standing on his tiptoes to see completely over Ryou's head. The white-haired Brit only laughed at the action before his smile widened, looking up at Malik.

"No, I was supposed to be meeting up with my okaa-san," he explained. "I can't seem to find her, however. Would… uh, would you like to…" Ryou's cheeks were suddenly a shade redder and his voice dropped to almost a whisper. "Malik-kun, would you, ah, like to, well, accompany m-me for, uh, for now?"

Malik had to strain his ears to hear the other boy, but after figuring out the request, he frowned a little. "I'd like to, but I do sort of need to eat…" Trying to ignore the saddened look Ryou suddenly had, he glanced over at the vending machines. "Well, I'll just get something from there." He turned his gaze back to Ryou and smiled. "Okay?"

Ryou's face brightened immediately as he smiled. "Okay!"

(-)

"So you said you came here with your mother?"

Ryou snapped from his daydream abruptly, looking over at Malik with a beaming smile. "Well, sort of— we were going to meet at the entrance, but we seemed to have missed each other. I can't find her," he admitted, laughing a little. "I wouldn't imagine she'd be this hard to miss, but apparently she is."

"You can't call her?" Malik pressed, raising an eyebrow as he took a swig from his water bottle.

"No," Ryou responded easily with a shrug. He couldn't afford a cell phone, although he had been discussing with his mother about possibly getting at least one for between the twins. "She's the only one who has a cell."

"Oh." Malik blinked a few times, but decided he wasn't ultimately too surprised. No one in his family had owned one until a few days ago. There had never been a need for it and even then, they could barely afford it— they were slightly better off now, enough they could afford a phone for Ishizu and Rishid if anything. Realizing Ryou was still talking, Malik attempted to tune back in.

"I do hope she doesn't think I abandoned her, or something," Ryou continued on, frowning as he bit his lip.

"I doubt it."

"I never know," Ryou replied but shook his head, offering the other boy a smile. "So, Malik-kun, why are you here? Visiting as well?"

Malik looked down at his uniform. A simple white and collared shirt, black dress pants, and a nametag that bore his name as well as an odd amount of dinosaur stickers (blame placed on Mariku). It was sort of obvious he worked there, but he supposed maybe Ryou just thought he dressed up. Finally speaking back up, he laughed a little, "Ah, uhm, no. I work here."

The look of shock on Ryou's face caused it to rival that of a child's. "Really? Oh, my, I can't believe I didn't notice that!" He chided himself a bit, knuckle to his lip. After a moment of reflection, Ryou spoke back up. "So… what do you do? It's really, ah, neat you work here," the white-haired boy admired, flushing slightly.

"Thanks." Malik grinned. "I work as a tour-guide and a docent. You know, I talk to people about anything and everything and hope they vaguely retain some part of it so I don't have to answer a question about it later." The Egyptian started to laugh, causing Ryou to chuckle as well.

"I see," he replied with a smile. "How did you get a job here so fast?" He wondered aloud. He'd dream on occasion about working here, although every time he'd attempted to apply they found someway to turn him down. Usually, they claimed it was his age— he guessed it was more so because of something else entirely. As the saying goes: Word did spread fast, so went the rumour **(1)**.

"My sister's a curator," Malik explained, breaking Ryou of his thoughts. "She got offered a job here. Back home, she worked at the Cairo Museum. They needed help with the Egyptian exhibit, so…" He gestured around vaguely, laughing, "here we are!"

Ryou smiled. "I see. Curator, hm? That's really neat," he commented. "I never knew that was the reason you moved."

Malik almost said 'that's only half the reason,' but realized that it opened the door for a whole slew of questions he didn't want to answer. It was best to leave it unsaid, so he did. Just smiling at his friend, he instead replied: "Yeah, I guess it never really came up." Malik stuffed his hands into pockets with a shrug, that smile still sitting on his face. "Quick question for you."

"Hm? Oh, uh, shoot," Ryou squeaked out, surprised for a moment.

Malik didn't notice— or if he did, he didn't say anything about it. Taking his eyes to the white-haired boy, he raised a brow. "Did you want to just visit the exhibits with me, or did you want to find your mother? I'd imagine she's wondering where you are…"

"Oh. Yes, uhm, we should try to find her," he admitted quietly, looking to the ground. "However, if we go to the exhibits ourselves, I'm sure she's bound to be in one of them," he reasoned quietly. "She'll be looking for me, I'm sure."

"What does she look like?"

"Me," Ryou replied simply, laughing. "We get mixed up from behind quite often, despite the fact she's almost always in a skirt or something. People even think I'm her when I answer the phone, it's really quite annoying at times. They say I'm definitely her son," he grinned as though it was a good memory. "Her eyes are green, however. Father was the one with brown eyes, but otherwise we look just alike down to our faces, even."

Malik paused, faltering his step for a moment. He regained his footing without Ryou's notice and frowned. "She has white-hair, then?" He asked, frowning.

"Quite right," Ryou agreed, keeping his eyes forward with a smile. He seemed to be in a good mood. "It's even long, just like Bakura-nii and I."

"I've seen her," Malik started hesitantly. "She had it back in a ponytail. There was woman who came through the entrance, looking for her son— I thought she looked familiar but I couldn't place it. I guess now if I think back on it, she really _did_ look just like you," he laughed awkwardly. It was weird to think he had just met his (best?) friend's mother without even realizing it. "She went off to…" He thought back quickly, racking his brain. "Wildlife. Third floor. I corrected her."

"Oh, marvelous!" The other teen chirped, clapping his hands together. "Let's go find her, then, shall we?"

(-)

The museum always added a sense of comfort.

When Malik walked through the corridors he had come to memorize, know, and love in only a few weeks, it just calmed down every spiking nerve in his body. He needed that right now, because he had never met another person's mother before (if he was honest, he barely "met" his own). When they finally found the woman, she was sitting on the bench in the Wildlife exhibit, reading a flier. She seemed to just detect that her son had walked in, for the mother's head snapped up at the noise as she smiled at them. She walked over, recognizing Malik immediately, and couldn't help but mention the irony.

Ryou laughed. Malik didn't.

He would admit it: he was nervous. He didn't know what to say or how to act, so he pretended he was talking to a teacher. He tried to use every brutally polite form he knew and not only speak but act formally towards her. Eventually Michie Bakura noticed his unease, something he hoped she wouldn't, and offered him a wane smile as they walked through the exhibits. They had gone through the Wildlife area and were now sort of wandering aimlessly.

"Malik, was it?" Michie spoke up. When the blond nodded, she continued: "You seem very uncomfortable."

The Egyptian frowned, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Sorry. No, I'm not really, I guess," he muttered with a shrug, lying through his teeth. "I hope I haven't offended you?"

The white-haired woman let out a laugh. "No, no, not at all. You're talking to me like I'm some amazing idol, however," she remarked. "You're being very formal. I'm just worried about your comfort level, here— I don't mean to be intimidating."

Ryou smiled. "She's lying. I honestly think a lot of where Bakura-nii gets his intimidation is from okaa-san," he remarked with a laugh. Michie playfully smacked him on the back of the head, smirking. He held his head and glanced over to Malik, who was watching with a reproachful eye. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Malik replied with a wave of his hand. "Nothing. I'm just spacing out a bit, I'm sorry." He glanced around the museum hall, frowning lightly. "I should probably get back to work, though—"

"Oh gosh! We held you up, I'm so sorry," Ryou spluttered, grabbing at Malik's sleeve and tugging him as if to drag him back to where they found him. The blond smiled awkwardly, fumbling in time with his friend's footsteps for a moment as Ryou started to drag him along.

"Ry! It's okay, don't worry! Don't worry!" Malik reassured with a laugh as he tugged his arm back a bit, causing Ryou to stop and look at him with a frown. Malik smiled. "Have you ever gone to the gift shop?" he questioned, motioning for the two to follow them. "It just got some new trinkets in the other day, they're sort of neat."

Ryou's mother nodded, crossing her arms. "That sounds like a good idea… Ryou, dear, let him go."

Awkwardly, the white-haired boy did, offering his friend an apologetic smile. Malik barely noticed, starting to walk towards the store with his hands stuff into his pockets. He nudged the door with his knee, holding it open with his back as he waited for Ryou and his mother to walk through. While they took their time getting there, Malik called over the racks and counter: "Hey! You still fighting off the customers?"

"Oh, fuck you," came the voice from under the counter, "and if you're in here to get another magazine, get out."

Malik smiled as Mariku popped his head out, slamming a few miscellaneous books onto the surface as he did. "Re-stocking the shelves, huh?" Malik asked conversationally, wandering into the store after Ryou and Michie as the door shut behind them.

"Yeah, I forgot to after Orange lit them up," the spiky-haired teen grumbled, reaching under the counter and pulling out a few more.

"Slacker," Malik admonished, smirking.

Mariku tossed him a scowl from over his shoulder, walking around to the rack and starting to put the magazines away in vaguely "proper" places.

Malik watched him for a moment before speaking up. "Hey, by the way," the blond turned around and smiled at the boy Mariku seemed to not notice. "Ryou, my brother works here, too."

Mariku dropped the magazines. Peering around the shelf, eyebrow raised, Mariku found himself about a foot away from Ryou's face— the white-haired teen had leaned around at the same time. "… Well, hello there, creampuff."

"Ah, hello, er, Ishtar-san," Ryou squeaked out, skirting back a few more feet. He bumped into his mother, who laughed and examined the spiky-haired teen in front of her and her son as she put her hands on Ryou's shoulders.

"So, you're Bakura's friend," Michie begun with a smile. "He talks about you, sometimes."

Bending down to scoop up the magazines, Mariku snorted. "That's vaguely creepy," he remarked, straightening up as he shoved the merchandise into its places. "So you're… what, their older sister or something?" He looked the woman up and down, examining her with boredom. He didn't recall his "friend" ever mentioning a sister but he supposed that wasn't too surprising if she was like 10 years their senior.

Ryou chuckled a bit, but the white-haired woman started to laugh heartily. "Oh, well, you sure know how to compliment a woman," she teased. "No, I'm his mother."

"Ah," Mariku replied dismissively as he walked back behind the counter. He didn't say anything further until he caught Ryou's eye and smirked. "So, what're you doing here, creampuff? Not like I mind the company," he joked.

"Oh… just visiting," Ryou replied with a soft shrug and sheepish smile. "Ishtar-san, do—"

The blond cut him off with a grunt, narrowing his eyes at the boy. Moodily, he crossed his arms. "Hey, I _told you_," he snapped irritably. "Don't call me that. _Mariku_. Call me by my _name_, if you're going to attach 'san' to anything, okay? Don't know how many times I gotta tell you that."

Ryou squeaked an apology, looking flustered as he started twirling of strand of his hair. "Ish— Mariku-san," Ryou started again, "you… uh… you work here, as well?"

"That's a stupid question." Mariku glanced down at his uniform. "Do you think I'd ever wear a pink shirt willingly?" He tugged at the front of the collared shirt, scowling down at it. "… Or a _name-tag_, for that matter," he added dismissively, glancing off to the side before returning his eyes to Ryou.

Malik glared at his brother, muttering a "behave" under his breath as he straightened up the shelves a bit. Michie watched him skeptically for a moment, thinking, before she looked to Mariku and finally spoke back up.

"Mariku, was it? You called once," the woman noted, letting go of Ryou as he wandered over to Malik curiously. While those two chatted, Michie brought her gaze back to the spiky-haired twin. "Your Japanese is improving, although watch some of your words."

"Thanks, but I'll pass on the lecture," Mariku muttered half-enthusiastically, leaning back against the wall. Eyes locking onto Ryou and Malik, he watched the two as they poked through the trinkets.

Malik kept holding up miniature Egyptian God statues, explaining them briefly as Ryou's eyes danced in wonderment, carefully handling ones that caught his eye. He laughed, setting down one of Horus, grinning at Malik who held up Ammut in retort. Michie glanced over, watching them with an affectionate gaze.

Mariku crossed his arms, letting out a sigh before looking to the clock. Malik's shift would be over in about a half-an-hour, which meant Mariku had a good solid hour from that point until _he _got to go home. If that wasn't annoying, then he wasn't sure what was.

"So, you talk to Ryou as well?"

The mother's voice snapped Mariku from his thoughts. Glancing over, he raised an eyebrow. "Sort of, I guess," the blond muttered with a dismissive shrug. "Not really too much."

"Ah, I see." Michie nodded absently. "I figured you were closer to Bakura. It's your personality, I think." Vaguely, she gestured to him, causing the blond to smirk a bit. The woman laughed, shaking her head. "No offense."

Mariku only shrugged, still smirking as he looked over to Ryou and his brother. "I can't take offense to a true statement. I'm a troublemaker, your eyes say it all." His smirk fell a bit, watching Ryou touch Malik's arm in order to peer around his shoulder. Sneering a bit, he rolled his eyes and turned away from them. What a bother. He glanced over to Michie, who was going through the books, before looking back to his brother. Why was he suddenly so irritated? With no warning, he wanted to just storm out of the room. The wisp of fury came quick but once Malik walked over to him, he felt it dwindle.

"I'm going to go see if I can't get off early, considering I have no more tours anyway," Malik begun as he leaned on the counter. "Was Takanaka working today? I didn't bump into him."

"Not a clue," Mariku replied absently, shrugging. "I want to say he was, but I obviously haven't left this confined jail of overpriced trinkets so I wouldn't know. Hey!" Suddenly, he brightened up, straightening up and getting off the wall. "Speaking of that, you should get me food before you leave," he suggested, holding his hands out and shrugging. "I'm hungry."

Snorting, the younger blond shook his head. "Why? Can't you go and get something quick yourself?"

"Not really," Mariku responded, slouching back down onto the wall bitterly. "If the boss catches me skipping out of the counter again, I'll be fired."

Malik rolled his eyes. "If you do _anything_, you'll be fired," he retorted. "You never do anything for me, why should I go get you food?"

"… Because I'm your brother and you love me?"

"Debatable."

"The brother part or the love part?"

"Did you seriously just ask me that?" Malik deadpanned, twitching. "We are _twins_."

"… That does not answer my question," Mariku pointed out.

"Oh for the love of Isis!" Malik threw his hands up. "I will _cover for you_, just go get your stupid food!" Malik jumped the counter, sliding over easily and landing next to his brother. Mariku mimicked the motion, but landing by the magazine rack instead. "Idiot."

Mariku flashed a grin, combing his hair down, and heading out the door. Truthfully, he was just glad to get out of there. He wasn't actually hungry (although he would go to get food, because who could pass up a second "lunch" break), but if he saw Ryou talk to or touch Malik one more time he might just throw up.

(-)

He had someplace to go after work.

Mariku hadn't told his twin just where it was, but he just hoped the latter wouldn't worry because he tended to. Well, really, it was inevitable— he had at least _told _the twin he was going out in general. Malik couldn't know what he was doing or where specifically he was going. He couldn't tell Rishid, he couldn't tell Ishizu.

Sometimes, he felt like he could barely tell himself.

Stuffing his hands further into his jacket pocket, Mariku clutched for the envelope in it. Securing it in his grasp, he licked his lips and walked faster down the street. The sun had set and despite his confidence, the teen was starting to get a bit unsettled. The street lights flickered on but despite the coming darkness, the city was still bustling with life. It calmed his nerves to at least see that there were people other than him walking the streets.

As he reached his destination, Mariku couldn't help the unsettled feeling that grew in the pit of his stomach. He glanced around and over his shoulder, making sure no one saw him, before slipping down the ally way. One more glance behind him. No one. Eyes scanned the ally but saw no one.

Breathing a sigh, the teen ran a hand through his bangs. Taking one more look around, he muttered out: "I'm here."

Someone stepped out from the doorway. "Do you have the envelope?"

"I do." Mariku clutched it tighter in his pocket, lips thinning. "With that said, we're still on, I assume."

"Of course." They extended their hand outward, tongue flickering out to move the cigarette in his mouth to the other side. "You trust me still, right?"

Hesitation. Finally, Mariku spoke again. "Yeah. Just don't screw me over." He held the envelope out and the other took it carefully. "Is it enough for now? It's all I got."

"It's fine. I'll get… _it_ to you tomorrow. Hope that's good," came the bored reply as he flipped through the money.

Mariku just smiled wanly, mumbling an "it's fine" before the other left the ally. Hands stuffed back into his pocket, Mariku let out a shaky sigh and licked his lips again. If his family knew was he was doing, he'd be under house arrest for the rest of his life probably— if he was lucky enough not to get killed.

Turning around, he started to walk back towards the house.

Malik would be worried.

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<strong>

**(1) **It's supposed to be redundant, haha. Because it's a rumour being spread quickly in the first place, the rumour is in itself the rumour— if that makes any sense. It probably doesn't…

* * *

><p>I'm way too tired to deal with this silly after-chapter business! Haha, I've been working on this all day. I'm so distracted… Anyway, <strong>Read &amp; Review &amp; Critique please! <strong>Thanks for sticking with me, guys. It means a lot~


	10. Ch 9: Case in Point

**The X-Effect**

- ThiefShipping: Yami Bakura x Marik -

- DeathShipping: Yami Mariku x Ryou –

* * *

><p>It's been so long once more. Did you all think I forgot about you? I felt really guilty about not updating, and I really do apologize for this long drawn-out thing, but I had some debilitating family problems these past few months and finally, it all sort of snapped. Updates will be few and far in between, but I will try my best to keep this going! This is a pretty filler chapter, again, so I really apologize. It moves everything along as well as it can, though, so I guess you all will have to make due.<p>

Next chapter, hopefully, should be advancing everything much more than this. Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9: Case in Point<strong>

* * *

><p>They had almost completely forgotten the history project— almost.<p>

Mr. Satoshi brought the topic back up that day during class. He hadn't spoken about it otherwise up until that point, so for the most part Bakura blamed him for it. Either way there they were, sitting in class while listening to him ramble on about the topics— it was decided it would be ancient culture. Mariku had attempted to get Egypt as the topic, but their teacher was quick to shoot him down (almost literally— the blond had rushed up with the "claim a topic" paper filled out and gotten it smacked out of his hand and onto the desk by the ruler Mr. Satoshi held).

Mariku walked back to desk moodily, muttering how they ended up with Ancient Greece instead. Bakura, somewhat disappointed, decided perhaps it was best in the end. Mariku was probably skewed on his actual thoughts of how Egypt had been, anyway, from the way he would talk about certain things (read: practically all of them). Greece was better than what they could've had (and what, hilariously enough, the idiot Jounouchi ended up with) if nothing else.

"Okay," Bakura began absently, skimming over the requirement sheet. "We need to do a presentation— either via the computer, like PowerPoint or something, or on a project board. It's probably easier if we—"

Mariku let out a noisy yawn, successfully interrupting his partner. Bakura glared, as if the aspect was unheard of, before Mariku flashed an almost sympathetic grin. Almost.

"I didn't sleep a lot last night," he explained. "My bad."

Bakura only rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, anyway: poster board or PowerPoint— take your pick, here," the white-haired teen snapped moodily.

"I don't know what either of those are, but I'm bored, so I will go with the first one," Mariku decided as he pointed one finger absently into the air. Bakura stared, his face a cross between confusion and utmost annoyance. He didn't say anything for a moment— he just sat there and quietly observed her partner as if to deduce whether or not he was serious.

"That is the single stupidest reason _ever_ to pick an option," he finally stated, his eye twitching.

Mariku snorted. "_No_, the stupidest would've been: I like the initials PB better, so I chose poster board."

"… I stand corrected," Bakura admittedly numbly, rubbing his temple absently with his fingers. "Point taken, but still— stupid."

"But not the stupid_est_," Mariku added with some sick sense of pride.

Bakura rolled his eyes. "No, that title goes to _you_."

"Oh _fuck you_, Cloudy."

(-)

If there was one thing that Malik hated, it was being out of the loop. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He hated a lot of things, really— but at the very moment he _really_ hated feeling like he had no control over what was going on around him. It bugged him because he _liked _to be in control— he sought it, he desired it. Knowing he was on the outside of the information bothered him almost more than he would ever care to admit.

So when he started getting brushed off by both Ryou _and _Mariku, he was, needless to say, more than irritated.

He sought advice in the last person he thought he would.

Honestly, even _Bakura_, someone he could barely stand, was higher up in the "people he'd suck it up and ask for help from" list— but his pride was just not letting him ask the white-haired boy this time around. That opportunity fell on none other than Anzu Mazaki.

Malik barely knew the girl. He had spoken to Anzu a few times, because she was in his Literature class along with Ryou, but she always hit the wrong chord with him somehow. He wasn't sure if it was the bizarre combination of tomboy and prep, or the fact that she spoke a little too highly of friendship for his tastes (not like Mutou Yugi was any better, however).

Either way: unfortunately, that "friendship serenade" was exactly what he was going for, at least in some way. Holding in a sigh, he walked over to the brown-haired girl during literature class, absently rubbing the back of his neck. She looked up at him and grinned, twirling her pencil around a few times in her hand.

"Hey, Malik-kun!" She greeted. "What's up?"

The blond shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets awkwardly. He tried to ignore the overly friendly "-kun" best he could. "I was wondering if…" He bit his cheek, averting his eyes. '_Just say it, come _on,' he silently urged himself. "Do you think I could I get some advice from you?" he finally asked, looking back to her. He wasn't worried about being shot down for help, because that girl would help a murderer probably (given they apologized and promised friendship or something, that is). He was just worried that she'd—

"Oh, of _course_, I can!" Anzu immediately exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "I'd love to help you out, Malik-kun! That's not a problem at all! Here, here, sit down in this desk and we can talk! Or I guess you could stand there too, whichever you want, because either is fine with me, just whatever makes _you _most comfortable—"

— she'd do _that_.

Were girls (aside from Sister) always this talkative?

Frowning, Malik held up a hand, which successful stopped her rambling. "Uh, that's… fine. I'm good, er, Mazaki-san," he said slowly. Anzu seemed unaffected by the look (although she looked slightly put off by him using her last name and not her first, but he tried to chalk that up to his imagination) and just grinned again.

"So, what's up?" she chirped, resting her chin in her hands. "Tell me your woes," she teased, laughing.

Malik's frown lifted a little. Smiling just slightly, he scratched the back of his head awkwardly with a chuckle. "Sure… Well, I was wondering… Do you know a good way to talk to someone? How do I figure out what's wrong with a person?"

Anzu looked at him as if he were stupid. Maybe he was. "You just ask them?" She replied slowly. "I mean, unless there's more to that."

"There's more to that," Malik insisted, leaning back on the desk-chair behind him. "I get brushed off and he won't respond. The problem is, that person is my brother—"

"Oh, that's a whole new ballgame."

"Yeah," Malik agreed numbly, sighing and leaning his head back absently to stare at the ceiling, "yeah it is."

"Don't mean to assume, but he doesn't seem like the type to openly talk anyway," Anzu admitted with a sheepish smile, as if she thought Malik would be offended at the statement— but the Egyptian boy only shrugged, shaking his head. It was true, anyway.

"He would seem like it, yes— and most of the time, no, he doesn't _outright_ tell me what's on his mind," Malik begun, lolling his head forward to look at her passively, "but this time it's _different_. He's not only acting oddly in the case of brushing me off and doing weird things, he's _saying_ bizarre things."

The brunette frowned. "Is he? Like what?"

"'Stop incessantly talking, you dumb blond.'"

Anzu raised a brow, looking confused, but said nothing as he mouth opened and closed a few times. Finally, she repeated: "Dumb… blond?"

Malik smiled despite himself. "We had been talking about where to eat after work," he explained. "I mentioned a few places but after I bounced the third place off him, he got inexplicably mad, called me that, and then stormed off. I had to jog to keep up with his pace… football's starting to show through in his endurance."

"I guess that is bizarre," Anzu acknowledged the first half, crossing her arms. "Perhaps it's some sort of 'fitting in' phase? He might be hanging around those jocks too much," she muttered distastefully. "They have a tendency to corrupt even the calmest boy that joins the team."

"You speak as if from experience," Malik remarked, half-joking. Anzu just smiled in an almost all-knowing way.

"I sort of am," she agreed. "I knew someone once, a long time ago. Regardless," Anzu shrugged. "They aren't exactly the nicest people around. It might be their influence affecting him."

"Maybe," Malik replied, absently taking the thought into consideration. It was a possibility. This whole thing _had_ started after football, but he doubted it was the only contributing factor, if it was one at all. "I guess I just—" He trailed off weakly as the bell rang and the teacher clapped his hands together, calling for the students to take their seats. Ryou, who had been ignoring Malik before class, was staring over at the empty seat beside him as if just realizing his blond companion was gone. He looked over to Malik and smiled sheepishly before returning his eyes to the front of the room.

Malik sighed, reluctant to leave despite the initial thought of how annoying the girl could be. She probably had good advice. Anzu chuckled, as if sensing his conflict, and smiled at the bronzed-skin boy. "We can talk more at lunch, you want," she offered.

"Sure. Thanks," Malik agreed, nodding to Anzu as he went to sit down. It would be a long day until then.

(-)

He was talking to her.

Of all people, he was talking to _her_.

No one really noticed Bakura's sudden irritation, or if they did they knew better than to ask about it. Bakura was constantly irritable, after all, that was really nothing new— and for him to be angry over seemingly nothing? It was a regular routine that wasn't exactly missed (on the rare occasions the white-haired boy was in not a decent mood, per say, but rather one of impassiveness). When he was as touchy as he was at the moment, he didn't always lash out (but by no times was that foolproof— he had hit Jounouchi once or twice on a particular bad day that the blond decided to push Bakura's buttons more than he should've).

Usually, Bakura was almost eerily quiet (past the point of "normal" silence from him) and bore a sour but deadly look on his face. Occasionally, it was directed towards someone but for the most part, the table got the brunt force of the glare. He would get over it eventually and sometimes he was even over it by the end of lunch (although that was rare in itself). The others at the table knew to just let him be until then.

So when Bakura showed all the telltale signs of a bad day, it was needless to say that no one was surprised.

What surprised them, rather, was actually the reason their "friend" was angry in the first place— even though they didn't realize it at the time.

Anzu, distracted from the lunch line, was animatedly chatting with Malik as the two stood off to the side of the cafeteria. While Malik looked less enthused, he was still participating in the chatter with his own gestures (one-handed, considering he was holding his lunch) despite them being a lot less energetic and much more subtle. Yugi, focusing on their lips in an attempt to decipher their conversation, was having little to no luck relaying the information.

Honda, meanwhile, was practically dying of curiosity. "What do you think they're talking about?" The brunet asked, cupping his chin in thought as he stared over in their friends' direction.

"Dunno," Jounouchi replied, absently munching on a sandwich. "I just can't believe Mal's talking to her— I didn't think they'd get along at all," he admitted. Otogi gave him a look that read both "are you an idiot?" and "I question your sanity" at the same time.

"Maybe he has the hots for her," Otogi put in thoughtfully, chuckling after a moment. The thought was bizarre, though he supposed even the quiet and rough-around-the-edges type of guy like Malik could fall for someone like Anzu. Although to be honest, it was sort of hard to believe. As if to reassure himself, he added: "You never know. They would make a pretty couple."

Yugi looked upset at this— it was no secret that he had liked Anzu since childhood. The thought of even more competition (and one like Malik, none the less, because even Yugi would admit that the foreign boy was good-looking) was irritating and really un-needed. He didn't want a rival, especially one that was also his friend. It was bad enough "competing" for her affection against people he hardly knew.

Mariku, deciding to actually contribute to the conversation at seeing Yugi's face, snorted. "Don't worry, small fry," the elder Egyptian twin started casually, a smirk splitting his lips. "He isn't gonna go for your girlfriend—"

"Sh-she's not my girlfriend!" Yugi quickly interrupted, waving his hands defensively as he flushed slightly. Mariku just shrugged, his eyes closing absently as that smirk stayed on his face. Yugi tried to ignore him, tuning back into the other boys' conversation.

"If you keep staring, man, they're going to see you," Jounouchi pointed out to Honda, who was still trying to see what their friends were doing. "Try explainin' _that_."

Honda was undeterred and only frowned, tearing his eyes away for merely a moment. "They aren't going to see me, chill out. They're too absorbed in each other, anyway. Seriously, what could they possibly be talking about?" he wondered aloud, throwing his hands into the air by his head. He was frustrated.

"You?" Otogi provided, and received a harsh glare in response. "I was joking, calm down," the black-haired boy defended, frowning. Honda huffed, ignoring his friend and turned his gaze back to Anzu and Malik. "You might as well go find binoculars at this rate, I hope you know," Otogi muttered. Jounouchi snickered and Yugi sighed, but Honda's eyes lit up.

"Actually, that's a _great_ idea—" The brunet was already standing up and turning. Otogi slapped his forehead.

"What?" He muttered in exasperation, "No, it's not! It's a _horrible_ idea. Really now, don't you have _any _common sense?" Otogi admonished, glaring at the other teenager through his fingers. Honda returned the glare and sat back down, muttering someone about 'stupid pretty boys and their bizarre ideas.' Otogi paid no mind and just rubbed his temples.

Kaiba was at the end of his string, having listened to everyone's arguments, and was tired of the roundabout logic. With a harsh tone, he snapped: "Why don't you lot just _mind your own business_? Is that _completely _foreign to you lot?"

Ryou frowned and spoke up now, finally finding his voice. "Yeah, please guys, just… let's leave them be? I don't see the big deal."

"There isn't one," Jounouchi defended with a serious face, but he started laughing after a moment. "Yeah, okay, fine. So, 'Riku," Jounouchi turned to the Egyptian boy. "How's football been goin'?"

Mariku studied the other boy for a moment before declaring (with both annoyance and confusion), "why the _hell_ are you talking to me?"

The two bantered back and forth for a bit (banter mostly consisting of "I'm just chatting to you, man" - "well don't" - "why?" - "because you're annoying" - "but we're friends" - "the _hell_ we are" and such) before Anzu strode over purposefully. Malik trailed behind her, the two still absently chatting a little but for the most part, the conversation died off as they reached earshot of the table.

"Thanks again," the blond said vaguely. "You were helpful," he admitted with a smile. He sat down next to Ryou (he and Mariku were amusing themselves by switching places where they sat at lunch— it threw people like Kaiba, who required regularity and a schedule, off) while Anzu sat in her regular seat by Jounouchi.

"Of course," Anzu replied, nodding with a cheerful smile.

Mariku ignored her and looked up at his twin, raising a brow. Something silent passed between them, but Malik waved him off along with a roll of the eyes. Purple eyes narrowed, and the older twin silently watched his brother who soon got dragged into a conversation with Honda.

It seemed like now they both had their secrets.

(-)

"Why were you talking to that girl, earlier?"

Malik looked up from the mixing bowl, glancing behind himself as his brother walked into the room. "That girl?" He parroted, frowning as he returned his attention to the dinner he was fixing. "Mazaki, you mean?" He heard Mariku mutter something (it sounded like "yeah, sure, whatever her name is") and assumed he was right. "I was asking her opinion on something, that's all. Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity," Mariku admitted, leaning on the table with his hands in his pockets absently. "Hey, can you cover my shift tomorrow?"

"No," Malik replied with missing a beat, starting to whip whatever was in the bowl. "I actually don't have to work then, and I didn't plan to. I was going to go the library after school— why do you need me to take it?" He frowned, glancing once more over his shoulder. His twin shrugged, looking upwards to the ceiling before he pursed his lips irritably.

"I had plans, too, and they ended up over-lapping," he explained vaguely, absently counting the tiles. Malik's attention was back to dinner.

Malik continued to whisk the food without much care. "Football, huh."

'_Not even close_.' "Yeah," Mariku instead replied, sighing dramatically. "Stupid practice." '_Nope, nope, nope. Practice actually doesn't get in the way at all, today, and I can't believe you bought that_.' "So you can't do it, then, huh."

"I can, but I won't," Malik replied moodily, shaking his head. "I'm not going to take over your responsibilities. Figure it out yourself. Hey, can you get out another bowl from the cupboard for me?"

Sighing once more, the older twin lugged himself off the table and over towards the wooden cabinets. He rifled through them, muttering something about 'too many stupid bowls in here' before deciding on a medium-sized white one. Shoving it up onto the counter, Malik graciously pulled it over to him, continuing his chore.

"Thanks."

"Yeah."

The twins fell into silence, the only sounds being the metal against the glass bowl, the oven binging, and Malik's occasional humming. As if on cue, after a few moments, Mariku heard the cell phone in the other room go off. "Damn, about time something happened," he commented, walking out of the kitchen to find the source of the (strange and oddly Japanese) ring-tone. After searching for a few seconds, he found the device underneath the cushion. As much as he'd love to blame his brother for it, that was probably his fault. Ignoring the actual admittance of guilt, he grabbed the phone the two of them shared and flipped it open.

[ _Change of plans. Meet me behind the museum after your shift._ ]

It was like he could read minds. Mariku typed back a fast response ( [_ fine _] ) before deleting the message. He couldn't really risk Malik finding out, considering they could only afford the one phone for the two of them at that moment in time. It was more trouble than it was worth at most points, which was why the first moment he could afford it the older Ishtar twin intended to buy himself a new phone. Malik could have this crappy old thing.

Sighing, Mariku shoved the phone into his pocket. For a moment, he spaced out. Was all this really a good idea? It could end up with him being a load of trouble, and if Malik didn't approve…

He shook his head. He couldn't really think about that right now. Cupping a hand around his mouth, he shouted into the kitchen: "I got my shift figured out, Mal, don't worry about it! Everything's fine now."

"Great!"

Everything's fine now.

Everything's fine now.

Wow, was that a lie.

* * *

><p>I'm not trailing off all mysteriously on purpose. I'm really not. It sure seems that way though, doesn't it? Force of habit, I guess... rambling/

Anyway, like I said, more development and a little more "insight" to whatever Mariku could possibly be up to. Any more guesses, friends? Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it! **Read & Review & Critique please! **Thanks for, once more, sticking with me. You guys are the reason I'm able to keep going! ( Q A Q)``


	11. Misc Scenes: 1

**Hey everyone, long time no see!**

I'm really sorry that I abandoned this story. I just totally lost my muse, and I wish I hadn't because this had been fun- and I put a lot of work into it, but, alas. However, I realised that I have a ton of extra information and stuff just... lying around. I wasn't sure what to do with it. Deleting was stupid and just letting it sit there and rot? Sad! So...

I decided I'd post this up as sort of an apology? Ahhh I don't even know. These are all pretty random and, unless I state, have no set time I was going to put them in. Just sort of were written as ideas and stored.

This got really long, so I split it up.

**So, enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Mariku usually wasn't one to confide things into his older brother, but he couldn't see things going over well with his twin if he brought up the subject. Rishid didn't get home until the later hours of the day, so they rarely actually bumped into each other but he knew that today was the one day he didn't work until that ungodly hour of night.<p>

Glancing down the hallway, the elder twin checked his room to find Malik still in there. He crept into the kitchen, poking his head in. "Rishid?"

* * *

><p>Suddenly, he was crying.<p>

Bakura barely realized it— blinded by his anger, he continued to glare heatedly at the Egyptian across from him. The violet eyes were glistening with water, kohl lines scrunched, and hands clawing desperately at his face. After a moment, the white-haired teen noticed the trembling shoulders, before taking in everything else. Malik was crying.

Blond bangs were sticking tactlessly to his face now from smearing the salty tears over his face and catching stray locks. His breath was hitched, choked, and out of sync. He was breathless. Finally, he swiped at his eyes once more before, suddenly, Malik lashed out. It was blind and a simple backhand, but it struck Bakura right across the cheek. He didn't react, only winced a bit and took a step back. It wasn't a head snap to the side, or a cry. It was just silence.

Malik was still crying, even when Bakura left minutes later.

The tears didn't make him feel guilty.

* * *

><p>"Don't get involved with him," Rishid warned as gently as he could, but his voice was firm. He intended to be heard.<p>

"I won't," Malik mumbled absently, leaning back on the counter and cabinets as he watched his elder brother do odd and end tasks around the kitchen.

Rishid frowned, glancing over. "Little brother, I mean it. I don't think you should get involved with Bakura." He purposefully left any suffix out.

Malik noticed, but said nothing about it. "Is there any particular reason?" He asked, walking over to the table and sitting down in the chair. He laced his fingers together and set his chin on them, elbows on the table. "You don't trust him, don't like him? What is it?"

"I trust him enough," the oldest Egyptian replied with a soft sigh. He was cleaning the counter now. "True, I do not like him much— but that's not why I want you to stay uninvolved."

Malik was silent for a moment, his gaze fixated off in the distance and down the hallway without much thought. "I'd like some sort of reasoning or explanation, then," he finally replied, violet eyes darting over to his brother. "You have one for everything."

"Twin situations are problematic," Rishid explained vaguely, heaving another sigh. "I think if… something were to happen involving Ryou-san and your brother, it would become awkward for you and Bakura, and vice versa. That's why I don't think you should become involved."

The blond raised a brow skeptically. It was then he noticed just how Rishid was wording things— and, again, he left off a suffix for Bakura. "Wait, brother…" Malik lifted his head and crossed his arms on the table, frowning. "Ryou-kun and Mariku, what about them? I don't see how they tie into this."

"They're…" He hesitated on the word, cheeks turning an absent pink of embarrassment. It was sort of awkward for him. "They're an… well, they're an item, right? Or at least highly interested in each other…"

Now Malik turned red, blinking his wide purple eyes a few times. "Oh." He stared at the table before looking back at Rishid. The red in his cheeks was dying down a bit, now, and the pink wasn't even visible in Rishid's. "They aren't, er, dating," Malik added with a shake of his head. "No. At least not from what I'm aware of, though I know Mariku does like him…" He paused, contemplating. "Brother, why do you keep saying 'involved' and such?"

"Because I don't care if you're friends," Rishid went on to say. He was washing the dishes now, frowning absently at the bubbles and soap. "I don't care if you see or hang around with him. That doesn't bother me."

"Well, then, I don't understand," Malik admitted with a sigh. He frowned, but it looked more like a pout rather than anything else. He cocked his head, staring at his brother's back pointedly. "If you're okay with us being friends, I'm not getting the problem here. I especially don't see how Ryou-kun and Mariku are tied into this."

Rishid heaved a heavy sigh, shaking his head. "Little brother, do you honestly not get what I'm trying to say?"

"I don't try to make myself look stupid on purpose, if I can help it."

Deciding to be straight to the point, Rishid glanced over his shoulder to look at the blond. "I don't want you to develop feelings for him— or if you've already have, I don't want you _acting_ on them. With _that_ matter, I don't trust him." He turned around, unable to stare into the suddenly shocked eyes of his little brother. He continued: "He'll break your heart— and if something goes wrong between the two of you, it will disrupt Ryou-san and Mariku's friendship as well. Probably Ryou-san's and your own, too."

"_Feelings_?" Malik repeated, jaw dropping. He had honestly stopped listening after the first sentence. "I don't have fe-_feelings _for him!" He spluttered, quickly waving his hands back and forth in defense. He was bright red now. "No! _No_! He's just my _friend_, that's it! Gods, no, I don't _like him _like _that_!"

Rishid looked skeptical, glancing over his shoulder again with a frown. "I just worry," he admitted, turning fully around and walking over to Malik. He set his hand on the blond's head, ruffling his hair absently. "It's never good to have something with your best friend's brother. With twins especially, it's a bad idea. It's a dastardly effect."

"You speak as if you have experience," Malik commented dryly, blowing a strand of hair out of his face with a heavy huff. He was still red. "I'm not going to…" he couldn't possibly turn any redder because now even his ears were tinted. "I'm not going to ever _date _him. I'm pretty sure he doesn't like me like that, either, Brother!" He jutted out a lip. "Where did you even get this idea?"

Rishid hesitated. '_Well, I _could_ be honest and tell him that Mariku spoke of Bakura having an interest in Malik, and that worried him a bit._' His thoughts paused. '_Somehow, I doubt that would go over well at all._'

* * *

><p>Mariku grinned. "It really kills you to know he's pissed beyond belief at you, doesn't it, 'Kura?"<p>

"Shut up. I know. What the hell can I do? He won't even look at me."

"Apologize. It's not rocket-science."

"I already tried! He stormed out of the room."

A sigh. "Fine. Leave this to me."

* * *

><p>"I doubt anything involving the two of you is a good idea," Malik said dryly.<p>

Mariku snorted. "Thanks for the trust, Mal."

"I offer what I can."

* * *

><p>"He said he hated me," Bakura murmured, running a hand through disheveled white bangs.<p>

"He was lying," Mariku replied with a shrug. "He's an emotional roller coaster, you know that."

Bakura sighed. "His eyes said otherwise... He _hates _me."

"I feel like you're going soft on me," Mariku retorted with a snort. "But seriously, Cloudy, he doesn't hate you."

"He slapped me."

"What? Tch, that girl," Mariku grunted. "He'll apologize later, promise."

Bakura was silent for a moment. "I think... it's _me _who should..." he choked on the last word, "who should apologize."

"Ehh, _you_? Apologize? Why's that?"

Hesitation. Slowly, Bakura replied: "I grabbed his arm. I wanted him to tell me what he was hiding."

Mariku's eyes widened before they began to dangerously narrow- but he said nothing, only waited for his friend to continue.

Bakura began again, treading lightly. "He told me to let go. I said 'no, not until you tell me.' He struggled and repeated himself. I repeated _my_self... so when he tried to push me away, I pulled up his sleeve." At this point, the teen's voice had fallen to a murmur as he rubbed his temple. "All those scars... cuts, wounds, horrible gashes. One was bleeding, probably where I grabbed him. I said it was stupid to cut yourself." A sigh. "He tore his arm away and hit me, screaming how much he hated me. He ran." Bakura paused, whispering out: "... I just stood there."

Mariku looked furious, but his voice restrained himself as he grumbled out: "Yeah, you_ really _need to apologize. He doesn't self-harm. He never has. To accuse him is to make a mighty big assumption that just makes you look like an idiot."

"I'm aware!" Bakura snapped, glaring up at the blond. "I know, okay. If he didn't do it, then what did cause those scars?"

"I'd rather him tell you," the Egyptian replied easily, looking away. He was calmer now. "It's not my place."

"... Will he forgive me?" Bakura asked hesitantly, looking to the floor.

"You actually intend on apologizing?" Mariku raised an eyebrow. Bakura nodded, causing him to whistle. "That's new. You're really _that _upset he hates you? Here I'd thought you'd relish it."

Bakura paused. "... Me too," he admitted quietly, focusing all his attention on a spot on the carpet.

Mariku looked completely blown away. "Touzoku Bakura," he started slowly, "are you telling me that you actually _like _my brother? Wow. You. _Friends _with him."

"... I think..." Bakura hesitated. It was now or never. "I think it's more than that."

Mariku pursed his lips, looking vaguely irritated in a joking manner. "Did I just lose my 'best friend' status?"

"He's not my best friend."

"Don't beat around the bush, then!" Mariku snapped shortly, bopping the white-haired teen on the head lightly. Bakura swatted at him, silently cursing his friend's oblivious nature.

"Malik isn't my friend because he's something else," Bakura grumbled. "Something different."

"Bakura. Spill." Mariku huffed, crossing his arms in pure annoyance. "I'm not good at guessing games, you know this. Spill your deepest thoughts, Cloudy!"

The teen rolled his eyes and ignored his friend with a scoff. "He's something else because... I think I have a crush on him," he said the last sentence so quietly that he wasn't even sure Mariku caught it. By the blank look on his face, he had to assume he didn't. Bakura was about to repeat himself when the Egyptian started to slowly chuckle until it erupted into a boisterous laugh, letting out a loud 'whoop!' and punching his fist into the air.

"Oh, I _so_ totally _called_ _that_ _one_!"

"... You _what_?"

* * *

><p>"Sometimes I question your sanity," Malik grumbled dryly, rubbing his temple.<p>

"You're not alone," Bakura agreed with a grunt.

"I question yours, too."

"Agreed— wait, _hey_!"

* * *

><p>"You're undeniably gay," Bakura announced, nodding as if to further assert his point.<p>

Malik glowered. "Your hair's longer than mine, you know. I'm not gay."

"Hair length is irrelevant. So you're, bisexual, then?"

"No."

"Well, obviously you're not straight."

"What makes you say that?" Malik grunted, eyes narrowing.

"You've never had a girlfriend," Bakura replied easily, smirking. "That's what."

Malik deadpanned. "Because you _have_?"

"Two, in fact," he replied smugly.

The Egyptian rolled his eyes. "What's this matter, anyway?"

* * *

><p>Bakura glanced over his shoulder once as Mariku shuffled off to his room to change out of his uniform. He had to absently wonder where the younger twins got off to, but the thought was dismissed as he returned his gaze to the TV.<p>

Mariku shut the door behind him quietly, smirking in amusement. '_This is going to be a lot of fun..._' he thought deviously. He opened Malik's dresser and tugged out some of his twin's clothes and tossed them onto the bed. He'd get to those in a minute.

He looked into the mirror situated on the dresser (Malik was too vain for his own good, seriously) and stared at his hair. This would work. Somehow. He put his hands on his hips in thought, jutting a lip out. Good thing Malik was basically mute today, seeing as he was sick and lost a lot of his voice. The most distinguishable thing between them was their voice, after all.

Mariku started to comb down his hair as roughly as he could, breaking the spikes as he did and attempting to style his hair like he had just woken up (or, in this case, was his brother).

Smirking at his handiwork, he gave himself a thumbs-up before starting to change.

Malik was going to kill him later, probably.

(-)

Bakura had closed his eyes, leaning his head back onto the couch lazily. His friend was taking forever.

He heard footsteps and lifted his head a bit, starting to open his eyes when he was suddenly face-to-face with Malik. He raised a brow, looking at the Egyptian questioningly— but the boy just stood there. The blond bit his lip nervously and glanced away, shifting his weight.

"Is something wrong?" Bakura asked skeptically, wondering why he was acting so strange. Malik was bizarre to begin with, yes, but this was a new level of odd for him. "Malik, are you okay?" Now that he thought of it, he almost _looked _off. "You don't seem well."

The shorter boy only shook his head (whether that was an answer to the first question or second question, Bakura never found out) before moving a bit closer. He locked eyes with the crimson ones staring up at him, hiding their worry, and released his lip. He opened his mouth to say something but then shut it, shaking his head again. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh, as if steadying himself. Violet eyes were revealed as Malik locked gazes with Bakura once more, taking another step towards him.

"Malik?" Bakura pushed absently, frowning as he furrowed his eyebrows. "Hey, are you—"

Lips were suddenly crashed onto his.

Mahogany eyes shot wide and his face contorted into one of pure confusion and shock, but he couldn't pull back. Bakura sat there, frozen, his mind racing in a million different directions and going in vast circles of thoughts. Malik was kissing him? Why? Was this a joke? What was going on?

Malik pulled back reluctantly a moment later. He opened his eyes slowly, still close to the pale boy's face, before moving his head away and straightening himself up. He was blushing now, looking away, but he somehow seemed contented. His eyes trailed to Bakura quick before he let out a yelp, as if realizing what he just did, and covered his mouth. If he squeaked a 'sorry,' Bakura didn't hear it as the boy quickly turned and strode out of the room as fast as he could.

Bakura just stared, jaw dropped, and eyes transfixed.

'_Malik just _kissed_ me?_'

* * *

><p>His lips moved as if silently reading the words aloud to himself, softly parting to breath out only air. His eyes were intense and focused, his brows knit together in the utmost concentration. The book was gripped tightly in his hands but despite the strained aura, he still somehow seemed so relaxed.<p>

Finally, Bakura leaned over near Malik's ear and murmured: "What is your brother doing?"

Malik glanced up briefly, figuring what Bakura meant but double-checking anyway, before looking back down boredly to his notes. "Reading," he said absently with a shrug. "He reads out loud when no one's around, but since we're in the room he's gonna be quiet."

"Why?" Bakura frowned.

Violet eyes looked at Mariku once more before shifting to Bakura. Leaning into his ear (and causing a nasty shudder to shoot down the pale boy's spine), Malik whispered back, "He has trouble reading."

* * *

><p>"… Please. Don't cry."<p>

"_How the hell_ can you tell me _not to_ when you _just said you hated me_?"

* * *

><p>"My apologies for dragging you out of class," a brunette woman began with a smile as the Ishtar twins sat down. Bakura, who had tagged along much against the lady's will, sat down next to Malik on the far end of the couch. "Hopefully you were not too involved," she continued, her emerald eyes sparkling with maturity behind her square glasses. She was dressed nicely and properly— she wore a simple white blouse with lacy sleeves and a long flowing dark blue skirt. Her hair was neatly pulled back into a ponytail and despite the mature appearance, she couldn't have been older than 25.<p>

Mariku just waved a hand without much thought. He was staring distractedly out the window. Honestly, he was just wanting to go back to gym— they were playing kickball and he was actually having a lot of fun smashing into the ball as hard as he could kick, whipping it to the bases as hard as his arm could throw. Plus, since Bakura was on the other team, he was having fun rivaling the other boy. Speaking of Bakura, he couldn't figure out why the white-haired teen had been so intent on following him to the office.

"What did you need?" Malik asked curiously, his voice attempting to sound polite.

"I just need some information, is all," the woman explained with a smile. "I noticed on your transfer forms…" she paused for a moment, sifting through papers as she tried to find them. After a few seconds, she found what she wanted as she pulled the two pieces of paper out and set them on top. She pushed her glasses up absently. "I noticed your guardian had neglected to fill out parts of the form."

Mariku let out a "tch" of amusement. That wasn't unlike Rishid. As together as the man was, he had a bad habit (if not knowing what to write) of skipping questions and such on paperwork. Ishizu usually went over them but she must've neglected to this time.

"Oh." Malik tilted his head a bit. "I see. Well, uh, we'll help how we can, I suppose." He nodded awkwardly, glancing to his brother as if wanting approval. Mariku didn't notice, only kept looking out the window. After a moment he finally took his eyes to the counselor (he guessed) and frowned a bit, but said nothing.

"Good, thank you." She shuffled through the papers again. "Now, I need to know your birthday. You two are twins, correct? So it's the same day?"

The younger Egyptian nodded numbly. "December 23rd."

Mariku grunted, finally speaking up. "As far as we're _aware_, it's the 23rd of December… For all we know, it could actually be in August." He paused, and then raised his eyebrow after thinking about something. "Nice to know Rishid left that one blank."

Malik shook his head, bitterly agreeing, but said nothing.

The counselor was just writing things down. "Rishid?" she mimicked. "I saw that name on here. Your legal guardian, correct?"

"Uh, yeah," Malik replied absently. "He's our brother." He was going to add something else ('_well, brother by theory because really he's adopted and I doubt it was ever anything official because that's not how father worked_' sounded right) but didn't.

She just nodded. "I see. Now, it seems he filled out the rest of the form, although a few things he left out I can look up myself. Now, he also left your parental information blank?"

The twins were suddenly tense. Mariku's head snapped to the woman, eyebrows furrowed and mouth open slightly as if he was about to retort. He just shut it after a moment, letting out a muffled grumble, and rubbed his temple. The woman was completely oblivious the reaction with her eyes trained to the paper, although Bakura wasn't. Worriedly, he looked at Malik sitting directly next to him and tentatively started to put a hand on his shoulder. Violet eyes flicked to him and Malik offered a small smile, silently saying he didn't want the touch. The pale hand was withdrawn without a further thought.

"Your mother's name and her maiden surname, please? We need it for the records."

The Egyptians fell silent. After the hesitating silence, Malik spoke— granted, even Bakura who was less than a few inches away had to strain his ears to hear the boy. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" She repeated, incredulous. Who didn't know their own mother's name? "That's bizarre. I don't see how you aren't sure—"

Mariku was at an immediate defense, eyes narrowed dangerously at the counselor as he leaned towards her. "She's dead," he snapped shortly. "We never met her on a cognitive remembering and we don't speak of her." Even inch of his tone screamed '_drop this or else_' and the woman finally picked up on it.

The counselor flashed a sympathetic look, realizing she had overstepped the boundary she didn't know was there. Quietly, she nodded. "Your father's name, then?"

There was more silence and hesitation. Finally, Malik was the one to break it. His voice had steadied. "Our father had no name. He was just... _father_, to us. To others, he was Ishtar-san." Malik paused. Somewhere in the back of Bakura's mind, he remembered Ishizu talking about how she didn't want to be referred to by her surname. Then she had said it was because her brother, Rishid, was usually called that. Was this the real reason she had such an aversion towards it?

Mariku snorted, breaking Bakura's train of thought. The Egyptian met the eyes of the counselor, violet boring into the green harshly. "Sometimes he was Ishtar-_sama_, if he felt particularly arrogant that day."

The woman frowned. "No name again?" she repeated. She wrote something down on her clipboard, and Mariku arched an eyebrow (whether he was irritated or curious, Bakura couldn't tell). "That's unusual," she remarked.

"Everything about the man was," Mariku replied easily, glancing away and out the window again. "He wasn't mourned at the funeral, that much I'm sure of. Honestly who would've?" He snorted again, waving a hand absently. He was still looking out into the courtyard. "It was a welcome thing, dare I say. Best damn thing of our childhood hell."

Her frown deepened (be it from the vulgarity or the actual comment itself). Malik barked a laugh, causing the woman to look at his oddly and almost in a gaze of concern. "I don't disagree," he added with a smirk. He tilted his head gently, "it was a sick pleasure to watch that body buried."

"You were crying," Mariku reminisced with a chuckle. His eyes trailed over to his brother for a moment before looking back out the window almost longingly. "I remember. You said they were 'not-sad' tears."

"Ones of joy, I'm sure. Were you?"

"I think so." Mariku looked thoughtful, his bent finger to his lips. "I don't remember. Ishizu was crying… I don't think she was happy. Rishid didn't."

The woman was watching them with silent apprehension, her frown almost overtaking her entire face. Her eyes looked incredibly untrusting. Mariku must've recognized the look for he took his gaze to her and his face split into one of a maniacal smirk.

"I feel no pity about him dying," he stated. The smirk never fell as their eyes locked— violet clashing violently against emerald. "In fact, some days, I wish I could return home if not just to spit on his grave and kick over that tombstone. Perhaps I could smash it with a mallet, because… well, let's face it: he barely deserves the hole he lies in."

She shook her head. "That's an awful thing to say about your father," she reprimanded gently. These two must've been a troublesome childhood duo, she thought to herself. Their father was probably strict— she doubted he had nothing but good intentions and the twins only misinterpreted it like a lot of children did.

"_Ha_!" Mariku threw his head back and laughed. It was a rough, coarse, and gritty sounding cackle. "Well, he was an awful _man_."

"In all due respect," Malik began softly, the smirk he wore mimicking his brother's, "I believe 'awful' is a way of putting it lightly. The scars see to that. Ma'am, may we go now, please?" He stood up without awaiting her response and sent her a sweet, almost childlike innocent smile. "Excuse us."

The counselor (none of them had caught her name, if she had even said it to begin with) was silent before she sighed, nodding her head with closed eyes. "Goodbye. Thank you for the… information." She scribbled something down before quickly looking up. "Wait, Ishtar… Malik, was it?"

Malik nodded absently, face withdrawn of any real emotion. In all honesty, he was tired.

"Are you aware that your necklace breaks dress-code? You shouldn't wear it." She pointed gently to the golden choker tightly around Malik's neck. Without much thought, tanned fingers went up to touch it and run the length of the smooth metal. His eyes looked momentarily pained before, like a blink, it was gone. His eyes were blank now.

The young Egyptian only shook his head. "It does not come off," Malik murmured weakly. Mariku realized the lie but said nothing, only getting up with a grunt and starting to walk out of the room. He was sick of this woman. Bakura got up and followed him, glancing worried glances back at Malik who still hadn't moved.

She nodded a few times, not really understanding but not wanting to argue, and waved the three boys out. The door shut behind Malik, who immediately snapped out of his "sullen quiet" demeanor as he angrily hiss in the direction the woman was behind the wall.

"I can't _believe _that woman," he growled, angrily storming out into the hallway and towards his locker. The period was basically over anyway. "Asking stupid questions about mother and _him_, then telling me to take off my stupid necklace."

Mariku only laughed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He was still in his gym outfit, just like Bakura. "Ha, don't get your feathers so ruffled."

* * *

><p>The car was eerily silent as the ride continued. Yami wasn't saying much of anything, unless he was asking Bakura for further directions or verification he was going the right way. Ryou was sleeping, head lazily against the window as Mariku kept his focus on the GameBoy in his grasps. Whatever game he was playing kept him completely enthralled seeing as he had barely said a word the entire ride. Malik would occasionally strike up a conversation with Bakura through the seat, although it never got far, so mostly he was staring out the window in deep thought.<p>

Deciding the silence was best off broken, Yami reached over to pop the radio on. Rough guitar noise soon flooded the car.

[_… Somewhere beyond happiness and sadness_  
><em>I need to calculate what creates my own madness<em>  
><em>And I'm addicted to your punishment<em>  
><em>And your the master, and I am waiting for disaster<em>—]

"Oh, I know this song," Bakura commented absently.

Malik was curiously listening, analyzing the lyrics silently to himself. "I've never heard it before," he stated with a small chuckle. He glanced over to ask his brother if he had (seeing he was the bigger music buff), but Mariku looked frozen. The GameBoy was clenched tightly in his hands and his eyes were slowly widening— normally stoic and cold, the eyes suddenly held thinly veiled fear. His face even looked faintly pale in colour. "Mariku?" Malik started hesitantly, getting steadily worried. "Are you all right?"

"Turn it off."

The reply was so stiff and forced-sounding that the younger Egyptian wouldn't have believed it came from his twin if he had not seen his lips move. Harsh violet eyes shut tightly, trying to block out the song. Malik withdrew his outstretched hand, reluctant now to set it on his brother's shoulder.

"Turn it off," Mariku repeated hoarsely. "Now."

[_… I think my thoughts when I don't even need to_  
><em>I never look back cause I don't even want to<em>  
><em>And I don't need to, because I'm getting away with murder—<em>]

Yami looked into the rear view mirror seeming a bit worried. Bakura frowned, especially at the tone, as he glanced to the back seat at the person he could vaguely call his best friend. Curiously, Bakura muttered: "Why?" He then noticed how pale he was suddenly looking. "Hey… are you—"

"TURN IT OFF!"

The yell was so out of the blue it startled Ryou awake with a jolt and Malik looked like he had had a heart attack, his back pressed against the car door and away from his brother with his eyes wide. Even Yami, and strangely enough Bakura, jumped slightly. Without a word, Yami's hand shot out and clicked the radio to another station. Some classical music was playing, but eventually it turned out to be a commercial. The silence of the car returned, except for Mariku's suddenly laboured pants. After a moment he seemed to have calmed himself down, remotely— enough that he flicked his GameBoy off and tossed it carelessly to the floor in irritation. He had died anyway.

Why did that song suddenly bother him so much?

Scratch that. He knew why— but the question was rather why now of all times? It was so long ago. It shouldn't bother him. So why were visions of the past suddenly flashing in front of his eyes again? That song. That stupid, pointless song…

Malik was at his brother's side in a moment, Egyptian-Arabic quickly flowing out to keep the conversation somewhat private. "_Are you okay? Mariku, what's wrong? Tell me_!"

The twin tensed up, hanging his head with his eyes hidden by his bangs. "_It's nothing_."

"_Liar_."

Mariku took his gaze over to his sibling, glaring darkly. "_I'm not lying. It's nothing_." A pause and then a small, forced smile. His face lightened up despite still being plagued with worry and badly hidden fear, and his eyes grew just slightly softer. "_Don't worry about me_." He reached out, setting his hand on Malik's head and ruffling his hair. "_Please_."

The other didn't look even remotely convinced. "_Mariku… You looked terrified_."

"_Little brother, please,_" the elder twin repeated patiently. "_I promise. I'm fine._" The smile widened, but the sincerity of it was still nonexistent. "_I had a nightmare. This song reminded me of it. That's all._" '_I'll protect you no matter what_.'

Malik frowned. "_But_…" He trailed off, biting his lip. His brother complained about nightmares before but he always laughed about them. They had never seriously plagued him (not since back then), why were they beginning to now? After a moment, he sighed in defeat. "_I don't believe you. But... Okay. I won't pry_."

"_Thank_ _you_."

They both fell silent. Ryou watched them with a worried expression, not entirely sure what just happened, while Bakura stared at them from the rear-view mirror, looking completely confused at the incomprehensible exchange. Yami didn't say a word, only kept driving with his eyes fixated forward. After a moment, Mariku bent down to pick his GameBoy back up, flicking it on, and started to play again. Malik watched him with almost sympathetic eyes, before looking back out the window.

* * *

><p>Bakura expected the anger in Malik to flare. Instead, the scowl only deepened. After a moment, the sour look slowly faded and a devious smirk replaced it. "… I have no reason to move nor be afraid of you, Fluffy."<p>

That did it.

* * *

><p>"Why would I ever like someone like you?" He snorted, scrunching his nose as if to emphasize a point.<p>

Malik frowned. "Looking back on this, I'm wondering the same thing."

"So you agree."

"Yeah. I do. I'm not sure how I _ever_ fell for such a conceited asshole."

* * *

><p>The white-haired boy shot at the smaller blond, breaking free of Ryou's grasp. The snarky kid didn't even flinch as the fist came barreling towards him. It wasn't because he didn't see it coming— it was because another tan hand shot out and grabbed Bakura's right before it smashed into the younger boy's "pretty little" face. Mariku looked furious as his grip tightened and for a brief and quickly fleeting moment, Bakura was positive that the enraged blond might rip his hand off or at least kill all the circulation.<p>

"You do not fucking touch my brother," he snarled. "Do it, and I swear to all the Egyptian Gods," He slammed Bakura's fist down into the desk, putting them at even heights as mahogany eyes clashed with violet. "I promise you will sorely repent it."

"Regret."

The grip was suddenly gone and the anger was turned to his sibling. "Of all the times to correct my Ra-be-damned terminology, brat, ya choose _now_?" He snarled, grabbing his little brother's collar and tugging it threateningly. "I am trying to save your sorry ass from getting kicked, Malik!"

"I get punched, I get punched. I don't see the problem here."

"You're impossible—"

"You are not one to talk!"

Bakura was too busy fuming and debating internally whether or not to nail the tall blond when Ryou started laughing.

* * *

><p>"Get back here, brat!" Mariku snapped again, about to go around the desk to grab his irrational little brother.<p>

"Stop calling me that, you psychopath!" Malik shot back, still fuming. The two were just about ready to claw out each other's throats when a few more classmates filed in. Though they stopped at the front of the classroom, watching the heated exchange with vague curiosity. Neither twin seemed to notice the sudden attention. "Stop ordering me around, you're not that much older you know! Minutes are not long periods of time!"

"Try being 7 minutes late to class!" Mariku retorted and looked extremely smug by the fact he had just successful won that specific argument. Minutes counted.

"… Well, in that context!" Malik shouted back, throwing his arms in the air. He scowled but after a moment let out an irritated sigh. "Ugh! Forget it." He stormed past his brother, making sure to collide their shoulders roughly, as he grabbed his stuff and stalked to the other side of the room. He grumbled something in Arabic when he passed his brother— whatever he said, suddenly had the boy flustered.

Something responded in Arabic.

A smirk on Malik's part. Something else.

Finally, in a language they all understood: "… Fine. Okay. Whatever." The boy skulked to his desk and slumped into it angrily. "… Prick," he hissed under his breath.

"I can hear you."

"Curse you and you Ra be damned bionic hearing!"

* * *

><p>When the doorbell rang and knocks in quick succession sounded at what Bakura would soon notice via his alarm clock was 3AM, it was needless to say that he was pissed about it. He stormed downstairs, wiping furiously at his eyes to rid the sleep, grumbling as he grabbed the door handle and attempted to open it. It was locked. Undoing the deadbolt irritably and clacking the lock to the side, he tore the door open ready to kill whoever woke him up.<p>

He didn't expect to see Malik on the doorstep, soaked from the rain, clutching a backpack to his chest with reddened eyes. He was crying; even in the rain, Bakura could tell.

"… Malik?" Bakura said slowly, as if he wasn't sure the other boy was really standing there. "What are doing here?"

Malik was silent for a moment. Finally: "C-can I come in?" The Egyptian whispered, sniffing. He trembled a bit, freezing. "I-I… I need to talk to Ry-Ryou."

Bakura quickly moved aside and let the blond come in, worriedly looking at his back as shut the door, re-locked it, and led Malik to the couch. "I'll… go get him up, hold on." He cast a wary glance behind himself before jogging to his twin's room. Despite the concern flooding over him, he couldn't help the jealousy that snuck in as well— why couldn't Malik talk to _him_? Did he still not trust him?

The thought was dismissed as he opened the door, slipping inside Ryou's room. He walked over to the bed and placed a tentative hand on his twin's shoulder, jostling him a bit to wake the other up. "Ry, hey, wake up. Ry? Ryou? You gotta get up."

The fawn eyes squeezed shut tighter, Ryou mumbling something about 'it _cannot_ already be 9 AM' before attempting to turn over and tug the covers over his head. He never liked to get up even though he was a morning person once he did. Bakura rolled his eyes and shook his shoulders a little harder, trying to sound more urgent.

"Ryou, you need to get up," he repeated. "I will rip the covers off of you if you don't, this is serious."

Finally, the boy rolled back over and squinted at his brother (or what he could see in the dark) through a hazy stare. "What is it?" He glanced to the clock, focusing his vision. "It's… 3:05 AM, brother. I'm tired."

"I know." Bakura straightened up, sighing. "I got woke up by the doorbell. Malik's here, he looks really upset and I think he was crying—" Before Bakura could blink, the lamp by the side of Ryou's bed was flicked on and the younger twin was awake and alert as if he just guzzled 3 galloons of coffee. He threw the covers off and grabbed his pajama bottoms off the floor, slipping them on as he rushed to the door while fumbling over his own feet. Bakura stared, stunned, before following without a word.

"Malik!" Ryou called quietly as he raced into the living room. Malik had his head in his hands, soaked shoulders trembling from the racked sobs. "Malik, what… what's wrong?" He sat down on the couch and pulled the Egyptian into a tight hug. Bakura watched quietly, frowning.

The blond choked on another sob. "R-Ryou, I-I'm so-s-sorry, I… oh gods," he whispered, shaking his head. "I c-can't… I c-c-can't do it, I…"

"Don't be sorry," Ryou ordered, tightening his grip. "You can't do what?" he urged softly, stroking the boy's hair as soothingly as he could. "Take your time. It's okay."

"I…" He hesitated and lifted his head after a moment. He glanced over to the right, noticing Bakura standing there. He took his eyes away quickly, shuddering, and shaking his head again. "T…they don't know."

"Who?"

"My-my siblings," Malik explained quietly. "I… It was y-years ago, b-but… They… they don't k-know."

"Don't know what?" Ryou pressed. He noticed Malik's eyes glance towards Bakura again and frowned. "Do you want Bakura to leave…?" The white-haired teen asked tentatively. Bakura felt his stomach do a flip, uncomfortable— did him being there bother Malik? That sort of hurt.

Malik murmured something with a shake of his head. Ryou felt a smile tug at his lips in spite of himself, and looked over to his brother, mouthing 'come over here.' Bakura raised an eyebrow but walked over slowly, hesitantly sitting on the arm of the couch although, secretly, he was content that Malik didn't want him to go away. Whatever he had to say, he trusted Bakura enough to hear it.

"R-Ryou, I… I need help," Malik finally said after a long moment's pause. "I n… need a-a lot of it."

"We'll do whatever we can to help," Ryou whispered supportively. "No matter what it is."

Bakura cautiously set a hand on Malik's back. The blond jumped and turned around best he could in Ryou's grasps, eyes wide. Bakura retracted his hand guiltily, but forced a small awkward smile. "Even if you killed someone, we'll help hide the body and clean up the crime scene."

"… 'Kura," Ryou started, glaring half-heartedly at his brother, "not the time."

"Er… sorry."

Malik just buried his head back into Ryou's chest, choking on another sob. "T-these nightmares I keep having… t-they a-aren't— they aren't j-just nightmares. I-I lied." He shuddered, flashbacks plaguing his mind. "Ry-Ryou, something really t-terrible happened w-when I was a— _hic_— a kid. I have-haven't told anyone… n-not e-e-even M-Mariku knows."

"You can tell us anything," Ryou repeated as he hugged Malik closer. His trembling was slowly stopping and despite his voice becoming shakier, it was stronger in tone.

Malik hesitated. Quietly, he lifted his head only to hang it, looking off to the side. He couldn't bear to look into Ryou's eyes— but he still felt them burning into him, just like Bakura's were burning into his back. Slowly, carefully, and breathlessly, Malik spoke:

"I … was r… I was raped."

Bakura felt all the colour drain from his face.

* * *

><p>They were eating the popcorn out of the two bowls, all four transfixed on the movie. There had been a few awkward grasps of hands (usually Mariku grabbing Bakura's, which caused both to let out a yelp of distaste) but it was brushed off as quickly as it happened, usually. Mariku and Ryou eventually ended up sharing the one bowl, pointedly not bothering to see if the other boy's hand was in the popcorn already— Ryou would blush but smile when they'd grab each other's hand, and Mariku would grin. He had tried to work up the courage to actually kiss the slightly younger boy, but so far it hadn't worked.<p>

Since they were sharing a bowl, Malik and Bakura were left with one. Bakura was tentatively reaching in, watching Malik's every move to avoid his hand.

* * *

><p>"Bakura! Dance with me!"<p>

Mahogany eyes glared up into innocent and excited violet ones, narrowing dangerously. "I don't dance," he hissed. He had just gone over this with Mariku, who had gone to great lengths to get the boy to even remotely stand up from the table. He had just sat back down, and the elder Egyptian stormed off to find his "date." He had better things to do than bother Bakura, for once.

Malik frowned. "Why not? It's fun." He grabbed the boy's sleeve and tugged, pouting a bit. "Please?"

"No," Bakura repeated slowly, "I don't _dance_." '_I don't care if it's with you or a bloody curtain rod, I'm not dancing._' "Leave me alone."

"Oh, come _on_, Bakura," Malik tugged again a little more desperately before suddenly dropping to his knees and setting his elbows on his friends lap. He rested his head in his hands, glaring with a pout up at the boy. Bakura twitched and attempted to hide the blush as much as he could. He looked away, hair flopping into his face, but Malik didn't relent. He put his hands on Bakura's legs and leaned up into the other boy's face, the pout intensifying. "_Dance _with me! Come on!"

"Malik, go away," the white-haired teen growled with as steady a voice he could.

[_No, no body stop, everybody move  
>Get up and dance get up and dance<br>Move your body b-b-body…_]

Malik's ears pricked up and he turned his head towards the stereo, blinking. "Whoa! Didn't think they'd play _this_! Okay, now you _have_ to dance," the blond announced with a wide grin (Bakura couldn't help the fleeting thought that he looked cute with it). He bounced to his feet and grabbed Bakura's hand, tugging. "Come on!"

"_Hell_ no," Bakura seethed and this time he couldn't hide his blush. He snapped his hand away. Malik's eyes flashed a look of hurt before it was quickly smothered.

"Do you not hear the lyrics, Bakura? It's time to dance, everybody must! Come onnn…" He reached for the white-haired boy's hand again, but the dark glare he sent caused Malik to rethink. He pulled back and stuffed his hands in his pocket, frowning. "You really won't dance?"

"Really."

The frown deepened. "Why did you come then?"

'_Because _you_ were going to come..._' "Your brother already shoved the ticket in my hand," Bakura murmured, slumping in his seat and resting his chin in his hand. '_That and Mariku black-mailed me…_' He scowled and glanced away, avoiding the upset violet eyes locked onto him. "I had to."

"… Fine. Well, if you're going to be a grump, _I'm_ going to dance. You know, the _purpose _of this thing?" Malik grumbled and turned on his heel, walking off. Bakura waited for a moment before looking in the blond's direction with a sigh. He'd get a mouthful later, probably, from Mariku.

Speaking of whom, the said blond was storming over (Ryou in tow) to the table Bakura had taken over. Mariku narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms moodily as he tapped his foot impatiently. "_Seriously_, Cloudy?"

Even Ryou frowned, fidgeting awkwardly beside his angry "date." "I thought you said you liked Malik-kun?" the younger twin started softly. Bakura grunted, looking away and resting his chin back in his hand. Mariku's glare hardened at the lack of response.

"He _does_," Mariku answered for his silent friend. "And that was why he was _going_ to this function, so he could _dance _with _him_," he continued, seething. Bakura turned his head to glare, but Mariku only bent down a bit to level their gazes. "You need to stop waiting."

"I don't dance," Bakura growled in retort.

"Do you _ever _listen to anything I say?" Mariku snapped irritably. "I told you before, he _will not wait forever_. You _need _to make a move. If you don't, I won't hesitate to make sure you don't ever come within two feet of him again." The eyes narrowed and suddenly, the protective brother front was up. "Make your choice, and make it _now_."

* * *

><p>"Ryou <em>likes you<em>!" Mariku growled, glaring darkly at his twin who only met the glare full-force.

"I can't control who likes me, brother," Malik replied calmly but the anger was lacing his voice. He narrowed his eyes as the older Egyptian let out a cry of frustration and threw his fist into the wall. He panted, unmoving for a moment, before hissing and slamming it once more furiously into the wall. "This is probably a misunderstanding. You're over-reacting. Calm down."

"_I won't_ because I'm _not_!" He roared as he spun around, seething. "I ask Bakura what the fuck was wrong with Ryou because I noticed something was up and he noticed too— what the hell's he tell me? That even he doesn't know but apparently Ryou likes someone. Great, right? So, I get the courage up to ask Ryou subtly about it and he says he won't tell me. I try to get him to even just walk home with me and what's hesay? He wants to know if _you'll _be there because he doesn't _want_ it to be just him and me. He wants _you _there. He starts asking me about _you _and your _availability_. You? _You_? He fucking likes _you!_?"

"You're misinterpreting!" Malik snapped back, starting to get annoyed at the accusations. "I doubt he likes me, and do you think I _purposefully_ made him get a crush on me even if it is true? You're a moron!"

Mariku bristled, growling as he spun around to confront the other. "Shut up! Just _shut up_, Malik!"

"Stop acting like I'm going for him anyway!" The younger twin snarled in retort, taking a furious step towards the other. "I don't like Ryou like that, he's just my friend like Bakura is just _yours_!"

"_It's different_!" Mariku shouted, slamming the side of his fist into the wall behind him. "It's different because Bakura doesn't _like_ me! Fuck, you could develop feelings for Ryou easily!" The Egyptian shook a bit, breathing heavily as violet locked onto violet. "You could easily fall in love with him," he seethed darkly. "You two spend enough time with each other. You'll fall for him and you two will get together. Where the _hell_ would that leave _me_?"

"I'm _not_ going to steal Ryou from you!" The younger Egyptian snapped defiantly, clenching his fists tighter. "I won't fall in love with him, I won't develop feelings for him! Do you even remotely understand the words that come out of my mouth? _For once in your life_, fucking _listen _to what _I'm _saying!"

Mariku couldn't bear to hear it anymore. With a quick swipe, he drew his fist back and hit his brother across the face before he quickly stormed off to their— no, _his_— room, slamming the door so hard that it was a surprise it didn't fall off the hinges. He threw himself onto the bed and buried his face under the pillow, holding it tightly over the back of his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, panting still from fury. There was no fucking way he'd give Ryou up to his brother.

He wasn't going to step aside.

(-)

Malik didn't move. Tenderly he touched his jaw, upper cheek, and temple area, wincing as he pressed them. He was going to bruise. It honestly took him a moment or so to even formulate the idea that Mariku actually hit him. While they fought viciously sometimes, they never laid a hand on the other.

Suddenly, Malik felt like something broke— something between them shattered, didn't it?

Quietly, he grabbed his coat and tore the front door open, slamming it shut as hard as he could just to see if he was able to piss his brother off. He started walking down the street as he put his coat on and zipped it up, shoving his hands into the pockets without a further thought. He barely realized he was crying until a tear hit his lips— and they kept falling from there. His head hanging low, the silent tears kept falling.

They stopped only when he reached the house he was headed to.

(-)

"Malik?" the voice said slowly as the door was opened.

Said Egyptian hesitantly looked up from the 'WELCOME' mat, eyes pleading for entry he hadn't even asked for yet. "I-I'm really sorry, Mutou-san— no, I, er, _Yugi_-san, but I…" He sniffed and realized he was ready to start crying again. His cheek was starting to burn painfully and his jaw was throbbing, a flash of pain going by every time he opened his mouth. "I needed someone," he explained as the strength returned to his voice. "My first thought was you. I'm… I'm really sorry."

"No!" Yugi said quickly, moving aside to allow Malik to come in. "No, no, don't be sorry! Malik-kun, please, come in, come in. What's wrong?" He asked restlessly, eyebrows creasing in worry as his red-violet eyes watched Malik hesitantly enter the Game Shop he called home. "You have a huge bruise, and your lip— it looks a bit split. Oh gosh, did you get into a fight? No, no, sorry, I shouldn't ask. Oh, uh!" He shut the front door and was moving towards the register's cabinet, although he was fumbling awkwardly as he did. "A band-aid! Do you want one? Or, uh, pain killers? Something? Anything? Maybe you'd like something to drink, or—" He kept prattling on.

Malik would've been amused at the boy's dismay if he wasn't so upset still. "No, no, Yugi-san, it's fine. I'm fine. No thank you," he replied as politely as he could, holding a hand up. As he did, he noticed it was shaking lightly— the fingers jittered from side to side, uncomfortable and slightly panicked. He shoved his hand back into his coat pocket without another thought. Yugi didn't seem to notice, Malik noted thankfully. "I… yeah, I got into a fight."

"Was it— no, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be asking," Yugi dismissed himself again as he slapped a hand to his forehead. "I'm so sorry, I'm being unusually nosy..."

"It felt more like…" Malik paused, fumbling for the word, "like concern. An over excessive amount of it," he added and managed a small smile.

Yugi felt a smile tug at his lips regardless of the creased brows and worried expression. "…Yeah, I don't like seeing my friends come to me with a bruise. I like to fix things too much, I guess," the small boy admitted with a soft laugh. As he invited Malik to follow him into the back and sit down on the couch, Yami walked out of the storage room. Upon seeing the younger Egyptian boy with his little brother, he raised a brow in vague confusion.

"Ishtar?" Yami began, cocking his head a bit. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Malik awkwardly sat down, coat still on and hands still in his pockets, and looked to the ground. "… Yeah. Me either. It was sort of last minute." The Egyptian hadn't noticed Yugi left until the shorter boy returned a moment later, two mugs in his hand. He handed one to Malik with a smile.

"Hot chocolate. My mother makes it for me when I'm upset," he needlessly explained as he sat down across from the boy. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Malik took a tentative sip from the mug, inwardly wincing at the scalding hot that slid across his tongue and sliced his tonsils. He waited a moment before he sighed, nodding. "Sort of." He looked at Yami, who was now sitting in the nearby chair with a look of concern that matched his brother's. Frowning, Malik cocked his head a bit. "Mutou-san, do you two fight?"

Yami looked a bit confused. "Yugi and I? Not really, actually," he admitted as he put a finger to his lips in thought. "No, we don't really fight."

"Sometimes we argue over the bathroom," Yugi provided with an almost child-like laugh. "Or what we watch on TV, but really, yeah, we don't fight much if at all. It's usually playful, if anything."

Malik smiled wanly. "I see."

While Yugi seemed oblivious, Yami caught on immediately— the reason Malik asked was not random, he was hinting at the problem. With a reproachful frown, he narrowed his eyes. "You and Mariku-san got into a fight."

"I guess you could call it that," the Egyptian muttered softly, that thin smile still on his lips. He looked upset in every part of his face except for that empty, hollow smile he was wearing. "Yeah. That sounds right."

The realization hit the younger Mutou brother like a ton of bricks. He gasped, straightening up almost in a quick snapped gesture. Yugi just barely managed to keep a hold on his drink, spluttering as he stared at Malik with unbelieving eyes. "M-Malik-kun! _He _hit you? _He _was the person you got into a fight with?"

"Hard to believe, huh," Malik agreed as a hollow laugh escaped his lips. He shook his head a few times, chuckling with no trace of actual amusement in it. "He's never hit me before. We've fought a lot, we always have, but he… he's never dared to hurt me, just like I've never dared to hurt him." A tanned hand gently went to his cheek, touching it hesitantly. His jaw was turning a nasty purple already, he could tell from the window's reflection. "It was a full-blown punch, too."

* * *

><p>"Happy Halloween, you guys!"<p>

"What the _fuck _is 'Hollowed-weaned' and why did you put this… this… orange _thing _on my desk!"

The group almost died laughing.

Mariku didn't find it as funny. He was flushed from anger and was nervously backing away from his desk as if the offending object would somehow sprout legs and kill him. Malik was just curiously looking at it.

"S-shut up!" The elder twin hissed, scowling (but with how scared he looked it was more so a pout) at the group. "Shut up! Tell me! What the fuck is this thing?"

"I-It's…" Yugi laughed a few more times before finally catching his breath. He smiled sympathetically at the foreigner, attempting to explain. "It's a _Jack-o-lantern_."

"Jack in what now?"

Honda and Otogi, who had calmed their laughter, burst into another fit of hysterics. Mariku only looked more pissed off as Yugi sweat-dropped, chuckling nervously as he raised his hands in defense. "No, it's a Jack-o-lantern," he repeated slowly. "Jack… o… lantern!" He grinned.

"… Jack-o-lantern?" Mariku finally muttered in understanding, raising a brow as he looked to the orange "jack" on his desk. He glared at it skeptically, inching towards it. "What the fuck is it _specifically_? Weird looking… fruit. Melon. Err, vegetable?"

Jounouchi was laughing again now. "It's a pumpkin, ya goof."

"That's the stupidest name I've ever heard," the Egyptian remarked haughtily, crossing his arms and turning his nose up. He glanced over his shoulder to his twin, who was looking with high curiosity at the so-proclaimed 'jack of the lantern.' "…So why's it on my desk?"

Anzu seemed completely oblivious. "It's for Halloween, silly!" She chirped with a smile. Her smile fell a bit at the twins' identical looks of confusion. "…You know, the holiday?" She weakly elaborated, now losing the smile faster with each second of utter uncertainty. The twins both looked completely lost.

Finally, Malik frowned. "Halloween," he repeated with almost a sound of disbelief. "We never heard about it. What… is it? A holiday, you said? But I don't see what it could be celebrating at the end of October."

"Nothin', really," Jounouchi decided with a shrug. "It's mostly jus' for fun! Y'know, dressin' up and gettin' candy and stuff!"

Mariku stared, his face a mix between vague irritation and confusion. "That sounds stupid. I don't even like candy."

Malik looked just completely confused. "Dressing… up? Why?"

It took them almost all of first period to explain the concept to the twins. They managed it by writing down and doodling pictures, passing it to the each of the twins as secretly as they could— eventually, once the teacher deemed class was well enough accomplished for the day, they were able to talk and explain the rest.

While Malik seemed to understand the concept more than before, Mariku was just getting even more lost. Holding up a hand, he scowled. "Okay. So let me get this straight. The 31st of October comes and everyone decides to dress up as either scary as shit things or slutty as shit things—"

"Cute things too," Malik provided as he cut him off, cocking his head. His twin only glared.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. And these dressed up fools go around to random houses they've probably so much as never even looked at to ask for a 'treat' or a 'trick' which just sounds potentially _lethal _to me, by the way, and the people that don't dress up for _that _go to parties with a big basin of water and apples? Yeah. Perfect sense." Mariku narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms moodily. "What the fuck sort of country did we move to, geez."

Jounouchi was laughing again. "You make it sound crazy."

"It fucking is!"

"Oh calm down, no need for obscenities," Malik chided absently with a wave of his hand. Again, his twin glared him at darkly but he paid little attention to him. "It's a… weird concept, to say the least. I do have to agree with Mariku, though. It sounds kind of dangerous. Going to random people's houses to ask for a trick or a treat? Bad things would happen if you did that back home…" He shook his head.

Anzu chuckled nervously. "Well, uh, bad things _have _happened. I mean—"

"There was that whole razor incident," Bakura cut in smoothly, grinning maliciously. "People have been known to put razors or poison in the candy. Cut your mouth apart, quite literally, or make sure it's… heh, well, one _hell_ of a trick." His grin widened.

Mariku blinked a few times, looking almost innocently curious. "Wow. That sounds like something you'd do. Did you happen to be the one—"

"Oh shut up, I didn't freaking do it!" Bakura snapped, cutting the other off with a slam of his hand onto the desk. "That was before my time!"

The elder Egyptian burst into coarse laughter, throwing his head back. "Don't get your panties in a knot, Fluffy, Horus almighty… Although you do seem the type to—"

"Shut up!"


	12. Misc Scenes: 2

**More scenes**, don't mind me.

* * *

><p>Bakura growled at the man approaching them, subconsciously stepping in front of both Ryou and Malik. "Go away," he commanded once the figure was in a closer distance.<p>

The man only smiled wanly, holding a hand up in a greeting. "It's been a long time, hasn't it, Bakura? Ryou?"

"I said: _go away_," Bakura seethed, fists clenching. "Get out of here. Leave us alone."

"I just wanted to talk," the blue-haired man explained with a sigh. "Can we do that, son?"

Mahogany eyes flared with rage and the teenager took a dangerous step forward, grinding his teeth. "_Don't call me that._"

Ryou flinched. Mariku was watching apprehensively from the table, while Malik was curiously poking his head out from behind Bakura's shoulder. Tentatively, he met the gaze of the man Bakura was currently having a verbal spat with. Violet eyes locked with brown, and, after a moment of silence, the brown eyes suddenly widened.

"Oh my," he began softly. "Well, now, if I don't believe my eyes…" He adjusted his glasses absently, blinking a few times. "It's the Ishtar boy, aren't you? Malik, correct? Yes, yes, Malik, I remember it. My, it's been years since I saw you."

Malik stared for a moment, lips pursed, before his own eyes lit up in recognition. "Oh. You…" He cocked his head. "You bought something from my father when I was a child. Right? I remember you." The Egyptian offered a small smile. "I usually forget the faces that came by the tent, but I remember because Father was in a good mood after you bought something. That was really unusual," Malik said as he actually laughed. "Do you still have it—?"

Bakura was suddenly defensive, arm shooting out to the side as if to further block Malik from the blue-haired man across from them. "Don't talk to him, Malik," the white-haired teen snapped, glancing back angrily. "And you!" He took furious eyes to the man he called his father. "Don't _you _talk to _him_! How the fuck do you know him. How do you know his name."

"No need to be angry, son," the blue-haired man said quietly, holding up his hands defensively. "I bought something from a man when I was traveling in Egypt. I was speaking to a young boy who was helping him with the tent, and the child was very adamant that I looked at one necklace his father wanted to get rid of. That was the necklace I bought for you, Ryou," their father explained with a soft smile. "Ishtar-san and I spoke often. Is he doing well?"

Ryou was silent. Mariku, finally having enough, stood up and walked over to his little brother. He grabbed his wrist, tugging him back and away from the man with a dangerous glare. "He's dead," the elder twin hissed. "He's dead and gone as he should've been years sooner."

* * *

><p>"It's okay if I love you, isn't it?"<p>

"While it's probably not the best idea, I can't say I'm much better off."

* * *

><p>"<em>Holy shit<em>, Malik, _Malik_! Do you _see _this, did you look outside!" Mariku shouted, bounding onto his brother's bed with a jump. Malik flailed for a moment, actually bouncing up and off the bed a bit, before taking wide and startled eyes to his brother.

"W-what the hell is your problem!" Malik snapped, attempting to untangle himself from the covers. "This is _not_ how you wake someone up!"

"The sky is raining _sugar_!"

"… What?"

The twins were both rushing out of their room and to the front door, Mariku pulling it open before they bounded outside. It was true. From the sky floated down soft specks of white. Mariku stuck his tongue out, ignoring the cold stinging at his arms, and caught a "sugar crystal" deftly. He grinned and laughed, turning to look at his brother who was crouched down beside the walkway, hand reaching out to touch the few inches of "sugar" that coated the ground like a cake.

"It's cold," Malik noted. "I doubt this is 'sugar,' brother." He stood up, cradling a handful of the melting substance in his hands. It was already causing numbness and a bit of a biting pain. "What is it?"

Mariku plopped down and scooped some up himself, wincing at the freezing cold. "It's as cold as ice…" he commented, scrunching his nose up and shaking his hand out. He stuff his hands into his pockets, shivering. "Is it ice? Sugar ice? I doesn't taste like it, but…"

"What are you two morons doing outside dressed like that?"

The twins looked up in unison, spotting none other than Bakura standing there. He raised an eyebrow, looking bored. Beside him, Ryou laughed. Apparently Yugi and his brother Yami had decided to visit, as well.

In a flash, Mariku was bounding up to his white-haired friend. "_Cloudy_! What's all this… stuff?" He gestured vaguely around them all, looking mystified. "I woke up to it, and it's freezing outside. Is it ice? Or is it sugar? Sugar ice, maybe! It doesn't taste like sugar, but it looks like it."

Bakura frowned. "Again, you're a moron. It's _snow_."

"Snow?" Mariku repeated, testing the word out on his tongue. "Snow. Snow, snow, snow… What a weird word."

"I don't think you have much room to talk, you're pretty damn weird yourself."

"Snow, snow, snow…"

"_Stop _saying that!"

* * *

><p>"Haa?" Bakura frowned. "Why isn't he jealous?"<p>

Mariku snorted, smirking. "Despite what you'd think, Malik is actually really hard to make jealous," he explained with a shrug, popping the sucker back into his mouth. "He knows you like him, and only him, so he figures you couldn't possibly have eyes for anyone else— at least for the moment."

"… Yet, he knows that _I _am capable of jealousy and uses it to his advantage."

"Pretty much."

"God_dammit_."

* * *

><p>"Get that <em>stupid<em> fucking lamp _out_ of my room!"

_CRASH_.

Bakura and Ryou cast each other a wary glance, the latter slowly getting up and trekking back towards the twins' bedroom. Bakura eventually got up to follow, curious more so than worried, and the two boys made their way back. "There's glass everywhere," Ryou remarked softly, carefully side-stepping all the shattered pieces.

Bakura eyed the glass skeptically, frowning. It was purple. Looking up a bit, he noticed a lampshade and a shattered light bulb. A chain was in the hallway too— the remains of turning on the now devastated device. A cord was limply attached to a wooden block base by Bakura's foot.

"What the hell is your problem?" Malik was heard shouting, and soon enough he stumbled into the hallway. "You _threw _the lamp at me! What's wrong with you!"

"I hate that fucking thing, I told you not to put it in here!"

"It's a _lamp_, it's not going to freaking kill you or something!"

* * *

><p><em>( hey look, the reason Mariku was sneaking around ):<em>

* * *

><p>"Hey, bro! Come here!"<p>

Malik raised an eyebrow, walking out into the living room in confusion. "Uh, what? What are you yelling about this time— what do you have in your hand?" Malik quickly asked, staring at the bright purple gift-bag that his brother was clutching with one hand.

"A gift," the elder twin replied. With no warning, he tossed the bag to Malik with a grin. The other boy fumbled to catch it, looking up at his brother with a perplexed expression. Mariku rolled his eyes. "Open it, loser."

"Er, okay…?" Malik said slowly, muttering something under his breath as he reached into the bag that seemed to be filled to the brim with tissue paper. After fumbling around, his tan fingers brushed across metal. Raising an eyebrow in confusion, he gripped the object and brought it out of the bag. A key. He blinked, taking utterly puzzled eyes to his brother. "What's this?"

"A gift," Mariku repeated, winking with a smirk plastered onto his face. "Because I know I've been giving you a hard time lately, and I figured I never _do_ get you a gift for your birthday or anything— I figure I'm the best gift there is, after all," Mariku prattled on absently, grinning. "So, yep. That's for you. Don't say I've never done anything nice."

Malik studied the key before skeptically glaring up at his twin. "Did you change the locks?"

"What? No." Mariku huffed, almost offended. "You moron. Follow me," he announced loudly, striding to the door and tugging it open. Malik plodded after him reluctantly, still clutching the bag and the key. Mariku led his twin down the driveway, turning the corner to go around the side of their house. "Ne! Close your eyes!" He suddenly decided, turning around to dart behind his brother and cover his eyes. Malik let out a "gack!" of surprise at the sudden action, tensing up.

"J-just what am I looking at?" Malik spluttered, getting nervous. "Did you kill someone or something?"

"You always assume the worst. Idiot. Walk!" Mariku randomly commanded, starting to guide his brother towards the backyard. "Okay annnnd…" He stopped, tugging his brother to a stop as well, and grinned broadly. "I'mma remove my hands. Keep your eyes closed, okay?" He took his hands away without waiting for confirmation and darted in front of the other blond. "Now, open them!"

Malik slowly opened his eyes, wary of whatever would be standing in front of him. Instead, he was shocked into silence. Jaw dropped, he stared at the sight before him with wide and awe-struck eyes. Violet orbs darted to his brother, as if waiting for the boy to shout, "just kidding" but he never did. The other Egyptian only grinned proudly.

Finally, Malik spoke: "Have I ever told you that I love you?"

The smug look was lost. Replaced by: look of wary. "Uh, no?"

"Well I won't start now, but _damn_ does this situation almost call for it," Malik announced. "Horus! I cannot believe this," he took a few steps towards the thing that caught every fiber of his attention.

It was none other than a shimmering, glorious, steel and red motorcycle.

"What the hell brought _this _on?" Malik shot over to the side of the bike, eyes dancing with excitement. "Eh, It's not fake, is it? Oh gosh, it's _real!_ Ra almighty, I can't believe this!" He was touching every part of the bike now, hands trailing down the pipes and handles, the grin on his face widening.

Mariku just laughed. "Like I said… I've been giving you a hard time lately, especially with the whole 'got you beat up because of me' ordeal. I'd been toying with the whole idea of getting a motorbike for you, and when Takabaka beat you up it was pretty much decided I had to do something. I got a raise at work a few weeks ago, so I figured it was a good deal. That sucker was on sale too, so it's pretty win-win. I mean, we don't have a car or a bicycle, and we both can use it, right?"

"Oh, hell yeah, I don't even…" Malik's eyes were still shimmering from all the child-like excitement. He jumped onto the bike without another thought, his grin splitting his face as he "revved" it and pretended to drive for a moment. He closed his eyes, imagining it all. "Oh gods, it's gorgeous. Ra. Mariku, you are so fucking _awesome_. Thank you, _thank you_! I always wanted one!"

"Yeah, I know," Mariku laughed. "You're welcome."

"Would it be inappropriate to hug you?"

"Yes. Don't touch me."

Malik didn't listen as he bounded off the bike and tackled his brother. "YOU. You are the _best _brother _ever_! You are officially my favourite twin."

"… I'm your only twin," Mariku commented dryly, but awkwardly patted his brother's back. "Again, okay, yeah, you're welcome. Off, now."

The younger boy detached almost immediately and was back at the bike, darting all around it. "Shit! It even has a plate with our surname on it!" He slapped his forehead, starting to laugh. It was almost too much for him to take. Then, suddenly, his laughter stopped causing Mariku to raise a brow. Taking dejected eyes to his twin, Malik frowned. "Wait, I don't have a license," he realized, gloom already starting to overtake him.

Mariku just grinned and pointed to the bag that his twin had discarded onto the ground. "Look inside."

"…You did _not_." The younger Egyptian snatched the gift bag off the ground and stuck his hand into the tissue paper yet again. "Oh my _Ra_, you _did_." He pulled out a plastic and laminated card. MOTORCYCLE PERMIT: MALIK ISHTAR. Said boy scowled, lips pursed. "Seriously, psycho? You took the test and classes as _me_ and _passed _as me? Just so I wouldn't find out?"

"Actually because the teacher was so stupid, I got us both licenses," the spiky-haired teen announced with a wide grin. "I'm sneaky like that."

"Again: best. Twin. _Ever_."

"And again: _only _twin."

Malik started to laugh. "So this was why you were sneaking around?"

* * *

><p>"I don't know, I don't know!" Malik sobbed, cowering against the wall. "I don't know, stop asking me, I don't know! Please, stop asking me! I don't know, <em>I don't<em> _know_!"

* * *

><p>"Hey, I need you to do me a favour."<p>

"Hm? What?"

"Don't change. Ever."

Surprised, Malik looked over his shoulder and back to his brother, who was staring at him with a serious look on his face. "What?"

"You heard me," Mariku snapped, frowning and looking more put off than truly angered. "Don't ever change, stay who you are."

* * *

><p>"No, she didn't die when we were born," Malik muttered with a shrug. "I'm not really too sure of our age… the memories have meshed together. I do know, however, that we were around 6 or 7."<p>

"You got to know her then," Bakura countered, glancing over. Although he didn't mean it in an actually "offensive" or "cynical" way, the look on Malik's face said he had taken it that way regardless. Before the white-haired boy could remedy his tone, Malik spoke back up.

"You know, when you're a kid, you take in a lot of things at once," the blond began quietly, a small smile gracing his lips as he spoke. "You learn to walk and to talk, to act properly and to interact. You learn a lot. Growing up, I…" He faltered for the briefest moment, voice wavering, before he finally continued. "Growing up, I didn't pay attention to people like I do now. I could be a detective with my observation skills, believe it or don't," Malik gestured vaguely, without looking, to Bakura. "I've never seen you in that shirt before, for instance. It's new, isn't it?"

Bakura blinked, glancing down at the blue and black t-shirt absently as he tugged at the collar. "Yeah, I guess so. Technically. I've never worn it, at least," he admitted with a shrug. "How do…?"

"I just notice those things." Malik shrugged, keeping his eyes locked off into the distance. "I do now because as a kid, I didn't. I regret it almost every day of my life." That smile was still on his lips and now it was starting to fall. "We were young when our mother passed away," the Egyptian began quietly. "However, it should be easy to recall her face… her personality, how she spoke, how she acted. It isn't easy, though, because I didn't pay attention. I was too busy learning about the world. I was answering my curiosities, the questions that needed answers. I didn't pay attention to the things I should've— like her— because I was foolish," Malik whispered. "I was foolish and thought she'd be there the next day when I woke up.

"She always was before, so she would be the next day." Without warning, Malik let out a laugh. It startled Bakura, but the blond barely noticed. With his eyes closed and head tilted upwards, he continued to speak. "It was the most foolish thing I've even thought, to this day. I honestly believed that she would be there for me and I didn't need to think about losing her— I was just a kid. I had better things to do." Another laugh.

Bakura was beginning to get slightly worried that perhaps his friend was losing his mind. The laugh was hollow, cold, and devoid of any actual amusement— but Malik was smiling when he did it. His eyes were blank, reflecting that sheer emptiness of the sound. What was truly going on in his mind? Bakura didn't get the chance to ask.

Malik kept talking. "I don't remember much, if anything, of my childhood. For that reason, I don't remember _her_," the Egyptian finally admitted. "I didn't pay attention, so now I can't even cling to a memory. There's nothing," he whispered. "There's nothing at all. I feel like I was in a coma. I remember Mariku's jokes and his attempts to become a comedian, or us acting like wizards in our garage… I remember playing basketball but I never made a basket. Mariku was better at it.

"Ishizu would draw with us, although really none of us were any good. Rishid would bandage us up after getting hurt, but in all of those memories…" He trailed off, looking at his hand. He stared at his palm, closing his hand into a fist (or as best as he could) absently a few times before turning it over to look at the back. "I don't remember her, and that kills me. I'm missing a huge part of my childhood. I need that source of comfort. How do I know that she ever existed in the first place, Bakura?"

Surprised at being addressed, the white-haired teen turned his eyes to his friend. Malik still wasn't looking at him. "You're here, aren't you?"

"Well, yes, but did she exist in my life past my birth?" Finally, the blond took his purple gaze to the boy across from him. "I suppose it's pointless to ponder now, isn't it." He laughed again— that same hollow laugh.

Bakura frowned and without realizing it, snapped: "Stop laughing like that."

* * *

><p><em>(this was upcoming in the next chapter or so, I think.)<em>

* * *

><p>Of course the <em>one time<em> Bakura was punctual, his history partner was not. He had arrived at the house only a minute or so late by his watch seeing as he had gotten lost on the walk over. He knocked, waiting, and a young woman ended up opening the door.

Was he at the wrong house after all?

Soft features, deep blue eyes, and long straightened black hair defined her character, a simple white dress wrapped around her body adorned by a lavish gold necklace. She smiled softly.

"May I help you?" She asked.

Bakura stared at her, looking somewhat taken back and feeling somewhat awkward. Was this the twins' sister? She looked much too young to be their mother. "I'm here for Ishtar Mariku," he stated finally, shifting his weight a bit. "He's my history project partner. He said we'd meet at his home to work?" '_That asshole better not have lied to me_—'

"Oh, yes," she said to his relief, her eyes lighting up in recognition. So he_ was_ at the right house. "Little brother said you'd be coming. Please, come in," she moved aside to allow his entry. "I'm terribly sorry, however. He doesn't seem to have arrived home from school, yet."

'_Of course he hasn't— the _one_ time I'm bloody _early_._' "That's fine."

So there Bakura sat now, in the Ishtar living room, slumped in the chair. He felt uncomfortable simply being there as his eyes trailed around the home. It was simple. Nothing extravagant and if anything it was almost terribly plain. Dark brown carpet, tanned walls, and simple wood adornments along the bottom were all was around. Barely anything had been hung up on the wall besides a framed scroll (bearing hieratic it seemed, with some 'ancient drawing' above) and a shelf nearby. It held a few books and, Bakura had to notice, a knocked over photo frame. He wondered if that was on purpose or if they just hadn't noticed.

The woman asked him if he wanted anything to drink. He declined even though he was sort of thirsty, mostly because it felt weird. He didn't even know her name, still. She went into the kitchen and eventually the sound of water running and a teakettle screaming followed. She must have had it already boiling. The black-haired woman emerged moments later, smiled at him, and took a sip of her tea delicately.

"I apologize," she began, sitting down on the couch daintily. "I never introduced myself, that was very rude. My name is Ishizu Ishtar." She bowed at the waist respectively. Bakura wasn't used to that— he blinked in surprise, before scratching his head as she straightened up. The tea was still perfectly level on the saucer. She was good at balancing.

"Er, that's fine…" Bakura replied awkwardly. "Pleased to meet you, Ishtar-san," he attempted his own bow. It was a bit short and not very deep. Sure, he had been taught manners but he never really had to use them— well, rather, he preferred not to. His mother would always chide him for it, but he never saw the need for utilizing them. The people he met were never polite to him, why should he be polite in return? It made no sense.

"Please," she smiled. "Just call me Ishizu. It's easier that way. More often than not, if that name is used, it's addressing my elder brother."

"Oh. Sorry."

Ishizu waved a hand dismissively. They fell into an awkward silence, at least for Bakura. He shifted in his seat, but Ishizu didn't seem to notice. She had closed her eyes, as if in deep thought, and was sipping her tea absently. After a moment, Bakura scooted forward in the chair a bit, lifting himself up just enough to slide the deck of playing cards out of his back pocket. He straightened them, and begun to shuffle.

The woman opened her eyes at the noise, not in annoyance but in pure curiosity. She watched his movements carefully, examining them. Quietly, she spoke back up.

"Bakura-san, was it?" Ishizu began slowly. The white-haired teen nodded silently, continuing to absently shuffle the deck of cards in his hands. The woman paused. "May I ask you something?" She questioned hesitantly.

Bakura looked up, raising an eyebrow in slight confusion. "I suppose so. Shoot."

"How do Malik and Mariku act around each other?"

The question was so out of the blue that is caused a few cards to slip out of his hands. "I... what? How do they act?" He repeated, frowning. "Well ... like themselves?" He responded in a questioning manner, not really sure of the answer himself. He bent down to pick up the cards he dropped, sliding them back into the deck.

Ishizu looked vaguely displeased at the response, but she tried to hide it. She took another sip of her tea. "Do they often fight?"

"Fight? Not really much more than normal brothers, I guess," Bakura replied hesitantly. "Mariku teases the br— _Malik_ a lot, but he sticks up for him just as much." His frown deepened a bit. "Why do you ask?"

Ishizu sighed. The tanned woman let her eyes stray from their guest, landing on the facedown frame in the distance on the shelf. "It's just that it seems their relationship is... very strained when they are here, lately."

"Strained?" Bakura was beginning to feel like a parrot.

She nodded. "Yes. Strained, on edge, over-calculating... They aren't communicating like they used to. I can sense the tension, but neither seem to had become aware of it until I said something." She sighed again, absently rubbing her temple. "Even when I did, they claimed to have not noticed. They're either lying or they truly don't see it."

The teen shook his head, still shuffling the cards. "I haven't noticed anything of the sort." He paused before hesitantly adding: "Sorry."

Ishizu only smiled wanly. "Do not worry about it. Perhaps I'm just imagining things."

Bakura nodded, only vaguely away of what she was saying. Now he was thinking back through the weeks of school he had gone through with the Egyptian twins. _Had_ something been off? No matter how hard he tried to think, he couldn't come up with one instance where the relationship between them had seemed tense. A few more fights than usual had broken out, but it wasn't really note-worthy. Ishizu was, more than likely, just being a protective older sister, worrying over nothing.

A moment later, the door opened, snapping him successfully from his thoughts. In walked none other than the subjects of the conversation themselves.

"Sorry we're late! Practice held me up!" Mariku announced loudly, slamming the door behind him with his foot as he took off his jacket. Malik pursed his lips, glancing back at his twin in obvious disagreement.

"Well, if you had just done what your coach told you, we _would've _been on time!" He snapped. Mariku only rolled his eyes. He didn't really care.

It was then Mariku suddenly noticed the white-haired teen's presence. "Hey! Cloudy 'Kura!" He grinned. "What're you doing here?"

"Our history project?" Bakura grunted with boredom, much less amused as he straightened the deck before shoving it in his back pocket. "And stop calling me that," he seethed as an afterthought. The Egyptian only grinned wider before the realization dawned.

"Ah shit, I forgot to pick up a poster board. I knew I forgot something, dammit!" The blonde slapped his forehead, ignoring Ishizu's reprimanding of his language. Mariku scowled for a moment before devious violet eyes turned to his twin, feigning a puppy-dog look. "Mal? Go into town for me?" He clasped his hands together, lip jutting out.

Malik thought he looked stupid. "_What_!" He spat moodily, hanging up his coat. "No! Go back out and get it yourself, you lazy moron!" He glared but his twin didn't relent.

"Please, little brother?" He whimpered, batting his eyes as if that would actually work. "If I go out, we'll get an even later start on our project!" He reasoned. "'Kura'll be bored!"

"Then take him with you!" Malik snapped back.

"Two people can't fit on your bike easily, though!"

Malik looked like he had been slapped. "What? Who said you could take my bike, anyway! Walk! You would wreck it, and like hell I'll let you ruin _my _baby!"

Mariku could see he was losing the argument, and losing it faster every time he opened his mouth. He thought absently, musing, before skeptically: "What if I gave you a dollar?"

"... No." Malik scrunched up his nose. "That would just about cover the cost of the board."

"Two dollars!"

"No."

A frown. "What if I let you copy my homework?"

"No. Why in hell would I do that? You rarely do it, anyway."

"... Yeah, that's true," Mariku admittedly absently. "What if I made you a cake?"

"No. I don't trust your cooking skills in the least."

Mariku scowled. "What if I bought you a new DVD?"

"No."

"What if I went to gym class in your place?"

"Tempting, but no."

The elder twin paused, thinking hard. After a moment, an idea hit him, and he slung his arm around the other boy's shoulders with a grin. "What if I set you up on a date?"

"N—" Malik stopped dead. He turned red and violently shoved his twin away, "_What_! A-ah, no! _Hell_ no! I don't want a stupid date, I'm not even interested in that sort of thing,and _who the hell even with_?" He spluttered, angry.

His twin gave a toothy grin, teasing. "Well, I hear that Devlin guy has the hots for you— _ow!_" He glared darkly at Malik, who had hit him in the heard. "I was joking! Ra!"

Malik didn't look as remotely amused, but Bakura couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. Ishizu was just watching with a frown. The younger twin shot a glare in Bakura's direction, but was soon looking back to Mariku with an even darker scowl. "Asshole."

"I know." Another grin. "So, will you go?"

"My answer hasn't changed," Malik stated defiantly. His twin frowned. "_No_, Mariku! I'm not your slave!"

"Well, no, but you're my little brother— it's basically the same thing," Mariku argued absently. His twin only scowled. "... Please? I'll owe you one! Or two! Three, even!"

"No!"

Mariku glowered, thoroughly annoyed now. "... Don't make me resort to blackmail, dearest brother," he threatened darkly, mumbling so only Malik could hear him.

Malik hissed. "I have such on you, too," the younger twin retorted. "I also have little to hide."

The taller Egyptian grinned devilishly, and leaned over to whisper in his ear. A few words in, and Malik was paling- in that was possible. Mariku drew back and his twin looked at him fearfully.

"... What size?" he whimpered.

The grin widened. "28 by 22."

Bakura raised an eyebrow, confused, as Malik turned and wordlessly grabbed his coat before stumbling out the door. The sound of an engine revving came a moment later, and Malik was shooting off into town on his bike. Mariku watched through the window smugly. Ishizu only frowned.

"What did you say to him?" she questioned, her tone dangerous. "Mariku..."

The blonde only laughed. "Don't worry about it, sister."

Ishizu sighed and stood up. She bid her brother a farewell before walking out of the room. She had to get ready for work.

Mariku waved absently before he strode over to Bakura, dropping his bag on the floor. He sat down on the couch across from the chair, slouching forward with a clap of his hands. "_So_, what was our project over again?"

(-)

Malik, by the time he was walking into the store to get the blasted poster board, was beyond pissed. He stormed to the back of the store and grabbed the paper moodily off the shelf (barely noticing the colour in his rage, he just _didn't care_) and hoped that no one got in his way as he went to the register. The cashier, slightly terrified of the glowering Egyptian, didn't even bother to attempt conversation past the minimum. Malik was thankful. He at least managed to politely ask for a rubber band or even a paperclip, murmuring an apology for his bad mood as the cashier handed him his change. The girl smiled lightly and gave him a band after digging into her apron, wishing him a good day. He absently returned it.

Malik rolled up the poster, sliding the rubber band on it as he shoved it into his bag and walked out of the store. He got on his bike and begun to slide his helmet on when someone suddenly shouted his name. He stopped, put the helmet on his knee, and turned to glance behind himself. A white-haired boy was walking up to him, waving.

"Ah, Malik-kun!" Ryou called again, laughing. He had a plastic bag swinging in his hand that had various things poking out of it— groceries. "Fancy seeing you here!"

"Hey, Ryou-kun," Malik returned with a smile. "What brings you to this area?"

"Shopping." He held up the bag a bit, grinning. "I was just on my way home, actually. What about you?"

The Egyptian sighed loudly. "Doing _Mariku's _shopping. He needed some stupid poster board for his project with your brother. Of _course_, he forgot to get it until the last minute…"

Ryou frowned. "So he made you do it? How rude."

"Actually, he black-mailed me."

"Even ruder."

The two boys started laughing. "Hey, Ryou-kun, did you walk?" Malik asked suddenly, cocking his head. Ryou nodded. "Ah. Well, do you want a ride? Actually…" Malik's eyes lit up with an idea. "How about you come back to our house? I could use some company. We could study for our Lit test tomorrow," He suggested.

Ryou brightened up. He _had _walked the entire way, and it was a good 30-minute walk, at least, back home. "That's a great idea, why thank you so much Malik-kun." He remarked, smiling. "I have milk, though… perhaps I could store it temporarily in your fridge?"

"Fine by me. Hop on."

Malik had Ryou put his groceries in the bag that the Egyptian had stuffed the poster board in, handing him the extra helmet attached to the back. Ryou cautiously put it on, now a little worried. Malik shot him a reassuring smile as he pulled his own helmet on.

"I'm a safe driver, but hold onto me and don't let go."

Ryou laughed nervously, sweatdropping as he got on. He wrapped his arms around the other boy's waist, burrowing his face into his shoulder blade to hide the blush that was suddenly on his cheeks. "Didn't have any intention to…"

(-)

"Do we need anymore pictures, 'Kura?" Mariku called over as he walked into the parlor where Bakura sat with the Egyptian's laptop. The printer was in his and Malik's room.

"I think we got enough," Bakura remarked, absently typing. "We probably have too many, now that I think about it. We're going to need to gather more information, I'm guessing."

"Ugh, research, the bane of my existence," Mariku remarked, scrunching up his nose in disgust. He plopped onto the floor, grabbing the scissors to start cutting out the pictures they printed. They still had to mount them on construction paper. "Hopefully the brat won't wake too long. Gonna need that poster board soon…"

Bakura grunted. "I'm shocked he even went. What did you say to him?" He questioned bluntly, although he was vaguely curious.

"Nothin' you need to worry about, Cloudy." Mariku ignored his partner's growl of "stop _calling _me that!" as he continued to cut. The room fell into silence, other than the clacking of Bakura's typing (and the occasional "damn" when he wouldn't find the information he needed) and the soft "snip" of Mariku's scissors.

"Ne, Ishtar?"

Mariku glanced up with his eyes momentarily. "What?"

Bakura hesitated for a moment, but he decided to take the plunge. "Did something happen between you and the brat recently?"

"… Why do you ask?" Mariku mumbled, hoping the strain in his voice or the tenseness of his body wasn't showing.

The other teen continued typing. He hadn't noticed. "Your sister said you two've been acting weird. Something about how your relationship seems strained."

Silence, and then: "… You don't say."

"Mmhm," Bakura agreed. He stopped typing to glance at his partner— it was then he noticed how rigid the boy looked. "Y'okay?"

Mariku seemed to suddenly relax, as if he was just snapped out of a trance. He flashed a grin at Bakura, "Yep! I'm fine. We're fine. Malik was just being overly sensitive as usual," he began. "I made a remark that offended him somehow, for whatever reason. Just a little fight, but he's still moping about it." The lie slid easily off his tongue. "So, I guess you _could_ call it strained."

"Ah."

The door opened and Malik's voice pieced the silence… but then, so did another voice.

"Haha! I know, right? It was really funny, if not awkward. I couldn't look him in the eyes for like a week straight," Malik said with a chuckle. The soft laughter of a certain boy followed.

"You have a lot of amusing stories, Malik-kun," Ryou giggled with a grin. "They're much better than the horror ones that my brother tells. I don't like all that mindless gore he spins…"

Another laugh. "He's as bad as my brother, then. I have too many funny stories! I'll have to tell you some more, later." Malik dug into his bag and pulled out a rolled up poster. "Hey!" He called, glaring at his brother who had now noticed his twin and friend standing there. Mariku turned around on the couched, leaning on it. "Got your poster board, you lazy ass."

Mariku fumbled as the poster was tossed to him. Once he managed a grasp, he examined it before he stared, blank-faced towards his brother. "… Little brother," he started slowly, his voice holding a dangerous edge, "What is this."

"Your poster, what's it look like?"

Mariku snarled, "It's _hot pink!_"

"That's what you get for making _me _do your shopping!" Malik snapped back, glaring in return. "You specified no colour, you demanding jackass!"

"I assumed you'd get _white_," the elder twin growled back.

"Well, you assumed wrong." Malik turned his nose up. "Take it or leave it. That's all you got." He started to walk towards the kitchen, Ryou at his heels. It was then Mariku finally _actually _noticed who was with his little brother. He shouted, causing the boy to stop.

"Ryou!" Mariku grinned— if he had a tail, it would have been wagging. "Hey! Uh, what are you doing here?"

The white-haired teen blushed a bit, turning to face the blonde. "O-oh, hello Ish— Mariku-san. Malik-kun, uh, gave me a ride back. I, er, am here to study with him."

Bakura raised an eyebrow. "What for?"

"Literature… we have that test tomorrow," Ryou said absently, chuckling when his brother looked remotely startled. "You forgot?"

"…No," Bakura responded slowly but it was an obvious lie. He usually did forget that sort of thing, thus the reason he usually bombed the tests.

Ryou started to laugh and Malik (who had put Ryou's groceries in the fridge or just on the counter with a note that read "THESE ARE RYOU'S, DON'T TOUCH" in Arabic) re-entered the room, raising his own eyebrow at the amusement. Bakura just looked irked. Mariku was in his own little world, smiling happily at the fact Ryou was over.

"What's so funny?" The younger blonde questioned as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

Mariku grinned, back down to earth. "Nothing but 'Kura's memory," he replied, taking his eyes to his project partner and winking.

Malik rolled his eyes. "Come on, Ryou-kun… Let's go study. Leave the psychopaths to their work." He grabbed Ryou's wrist lightly and the white-haired teen waved to the other boys before getting dragged off. Mariku stared after them, feeling a vague prick of jealously. He sighed, letting it go, and turned around on the couch only to glare moodily at the hot pink poster tossed on the table.

"… That brat."

Bakura snorted. "He's certainly a smart-aleck, isn't he," he noted bitterly. "Vengeful as a girl."

"Just a bit," Mariku sneered sarcastically. He picked up the poster as if it were radioactive, nose scrunching up in disgust. "Well… it's either this or nothing, I guess." He unfurled it, grumbling moodily as he rolled it up absently the other way to attempt to flatten it out. He plopped back down to the floor, setting it down, before starting to strategically place the pictures. "Guess that's his way of getting back at me."

"Sneaky," Bakura remarked. Mariku only grunted.

"Print the info out, 'Kura," the Egyptian said eventually. "Do we have it all?"

"Still probably not enough," the other replied honestly, beginning to clack away at the keyboard again.

"Bah. Well, print out what we have then, so I can start putting this crap on," Mariku murmured with a sigh. There was more typing and a few clicks of the mouse.

"Sent 'em. Where's your printer?" Bakura asked absently, setting the laptop on the chair as he stood up.

Mariku didn't look up from placing and gluing letters down for the title. "My room. Straight back, last door on the right. It'll have an indent in the bottom corner."

"All right." The white-haired boy walked down the hallway (silently wondering _why _the other teen's door had a dent in it but then again it was Mariku, it was better not to ask), glancing at the doors until he came to the last one. He heard voices from inside and frowned, opening the door without even bothering to knock.

Malik and Ryou looked over at him, the latter smiling widely. "Hi nii-san!" he chirped.

Bakura hid his confusion. Mariku had said this was his room. Although the wonder vanished as he noted the room had two beds— the twins shared. He supposed that made sense. He raised his hand absently in a returned greeting, walking over to the printer that was beginning to spit out pages.

Malik ignored the other boy, keeping his attention on Ryou. "So," he started, "the reason the main character said that was to draw attention to the concept that he actually had guilt?" Malik questioned, looking at his notes while chewing on his pencil eraser.

"Right," Ryou agreed. "It proves he's changing by developing a conscience."

"… If you ask me, he's still an asshole," Malik remarked while scrunching up his nose. Ryou started laughing, nodding in head in agreement.

Bakura glanced at them quickly before picking up the papers the printer had spat out. He straightened them, and then begun to sift through. He noticed one didn't print right, so he strode over to the door and poked his head out. "Hey!" Bakura shouted down the hallway. "Print out page 4 again, will you? It didn't come out right!"

"Gotcha!" Mariku shouted in reply.

Malik looked over to Bakura with a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Getting further in your project?" He asked conversationally.

Bakura leaned against the wall, eyes focused on the printer. "Obviously," he said shortly. He paused, noticing Ryou give him a mild glare out of the corner of his eyes. Right. He was supposed to try and be "nicer" since the brat was the younger twin's friend. "Yeah, we are," Bakura elaborated. "We're trying to cover up as much of the poster as we can," he added with a vaguely sour face and an annoyed tone.

Malik smiled, chuckling. "Would you believe me if I said it actually wasn't on purpose?"

"Not particularly."

The blonde just laughed again. "It really wasn't. I just sort of grabbed one and it just happened to be pink."

Bakura snorted, ambling to the printer, which just now decided to receive its command and print. "Well, if the class thinks we're gay, it's all your fault," he teased with a smirk tossed back in Malik's direction. The Egyptian looked vaguely startled. Bakura turned around and saw the look, frowning. "What?" He grunted, raising his eyebrow.

Malik blinked a few times before shaking his head. "Nothing," he replied dismissively.

"… I'm _not _gay if that's what you're surprised about," Bakura continued bluntly, looking annoyed. Malik just shook his head again.

"No. I figured that."

Bakura rolled his eyes and left with a wave of his hand. Malik stared at the closed door for a few moments before catching Ryou's curious eyes.

The blonde smiled lightly. "What?"

"You looked so startled, Malik-kun," Ryou explained as he cocked his head. "Why is that?"

"Oh. Uhm…" the Egyptian hesitated. "I don't know if it's my place to tell," he said carefully, frowning and hoping he wasn't offending the other boy.

"Please? I'm mighty curious," Ryou pleaded honestly, smiling. "I can keep a secret. Promise!"

Malik seemed to think on it for a few more seconds before he gave in. He scratched the back of his head before holding his hands out, palm-up and using them to gesture. "Mariku plays the field," he started slowly and hoped Ryou would keep up. "But he's not always in _home _field…" He hinted heavily.

It went over Ryou's head. He didn't seem to get it.

"I know he plays football. How can he not play for our school, though? I know he's on our team…"

Malik twitched, resisting the urge to face-palm. Better not to beat around the bush, he supposed. "Ryou-kun, my brother _is _gay."

Silence followed.

Slowly, realization dawned.

"_Oh_!" Ryou exclaimed, squeaking and turning bright red. He covered his mouth, completely embarrassed. His words were muffled: "Oh my, I can't believe those hints went over my head. They make so much sense now…" He took his hands away, although his face was still holding a dark blush. He paused, seeming to contemplate something. "That's surprising, although… well, I guess it makes sense. He's never seemed to like girls when Jounouchi-kun would bring them up…" He put a finger to his lip, now looking thoughtful rather than embarrassed. "I can't figure out how to word my sentence without it sounding offensive. He didn't strike me as the… well, I don't know. I don't mean the stereotype when I say that, I guess… but he still seemed more, ah, asexual?"

"Ah. Yeah, he does, but he's not. Trust me. So, you mean he doesn't check guys out or?" Malik asked absently. Ryou nodded. The Egyptian just shrugged. "He does. Just when he will, it's subtle— actually, he's really picky. Not many suit his standards. Leave it to the easy-to-please psychopath to have high expectations."

For some reason, Ryou found that funny. He started laughing, eventually causing Malik to join in. Laughter really was contagious.

Bakura glanced behind himself and back down the hallway at hearing his brother and the brat erupt into laughter. He raised an eyebrow before rolling his eyes and walking into the living room. He was met with a most hilarious scene: Mariku had glued one hand to his shirt and the other to their poster board.

Now _Bakura_ was laughing— so hard, in fact, that Malik and Ryou came out of the room to see what was going on. They found Bakura collapsed against the wall, laughing like a hyena as he held his stomach— the most emotion they had seen from him all week. Mariku was screaming at the boy to "_shut up_ it's not _funny_" and "Ra damn it all, _help me_!"

From that day on, Mariku was never allowed to touch the super-glue again.

(-)

It took hours to get him unstuck.

When Malik called Ishizu for help, it was hard for him to keep the amusement out of his voice— even his sister, a very serious person who was rarely amused, was laughing. Since she was at work, she couldn't get a manufactured aid, but she did suggest a home remedy. After many unsuccessful attempts, they finally got at least the poster board unstuck so Bakura could work on that while the younger set of twins helped Mariku. Finally, they detached him from his shirt and almost two hours of "home remedying." The Egyptian's hand was red, raw, and stung like hell— but he was happy enough to have it back.

"That was a nice distraction," Ryou giggled.

"Speak for yourself!" Mariku snapped, turning red from embarrassment. "I fail to see the humour!"

"I don't," Malik said silkily, grinning.

Bakura snorted, smirking. "How did you even manage to glue your hand _and _the poster board?"


	13. Misc Scenes: 3 Flashback

**This ****is an entire flashback.**

It would've been in two parts; but it explains all of Malik and Mariku's pasts; which I'm sure that, if you read the other scenes, seems pretty damn obvious ehehe. This is totally chronological and completed.

This is about all I have

* * *

><p>"Malik."<p>

The 7-year-old boy looked up at the sound of his name, smiling as his twin entered the room. He was about to chirp a hello when he saw the grim expression on the other boy's face. "What's … wrong?"

He looked hesitant. Hand on the door-frame, Mariku opened his mouth a few times to respond before closing it soon after. Finally, he spoke, barely choking the words out: "We have to go to the hospital. Mother passed out." He took a long pause, the hand by his side clenched into a fist as it shook a bit. "They… uh, they aren't sure she'll make it."

Violet eyes widened as Malik stood up so suddenly the chair went clattering to the ground noisily. Nothing more was said. Brothers shot out the door, not even grabbing keys to get back in. Their siblings were already there and luckily the hospital wasn't far. They could go outside. Just this once.

They ran until they felt stitches gnaw on their sides, as if threatening to tear it open but nothing happened. Breaths were laboured and their eyes were stinging with panicked tears.

They managed to get up and into the room just as the heart rate fell flat.

Shocks did nothing. She didn't move. She didn't breathe.

Her eyes didn't open.

Falling to his knees where he had stood, Malik broke down sobbing.

(-)

He hadn't come out of his room for days after her funeral.

It eventually angered his sister who said she was grieving as much as he was— but when he shouted "I'm scared, okay? You just don't understand!" at her as she nagged him again for being antisocial despite it all, she was confused. Mariku got defensive almost right away. He was immediately defending his brother, screaming at their sister to just 'leave them the hell alone' because he 'knew what happened behind closed doors.' Ishizu was blissfully ignorant, whether by choice or by coincidence. More than likely, it was the latter. Their older brother Rishid only knew because the twins would come to him, bruised and messed up, begging for him to protect them. He'd done what he could until it was turned against him.

Malik had his fair share of scars. They adorned his entire back in some intricate and painful pattern. Even his neck had slashes of lighter skin across it and his arms were laced with designs of abuse. His legs were no different. Mariku bore the same marks, give or take the number and placement. The design on his back was identical as well. He had a small scar on his jaw and one on his temple— but the cut on his neck never became a permanent reminder. It hadn't been as deep as Malik's. Mariku wasn't sure if he was thankful for it, or angered.

Now that their mother was gone, the twins were left helpless— mainly, Malik although Mariku was still in that ring. Even as a child, Mariku always had been the little spitfire and protective sibling. He constantly defended his little brother. He didn't let anyone touch him— well, barring one person who held such a power over them all that would cause even Mariku to break sometimes.

He (can monsters be boys?) was never an idol nor a role model— that man, the wretched and horribly vile creature, was no one other than their father.

The abuse was always there, ever since even Rishid was a child. He had been adopted, technically, into the family because the doctors were sure their mother could never have one of their own. Their mother had found him abandoned on their doorstep and, maternal instinct in over-drive, refused to let him die. She took him in, named him, loved him, and made sure he was welcome. She protected Rishid as if he truly were her own— and as far as she was concerned, he was. Their father, however, wasn't so easy to agree.

He hated Rishid. Nothing the child did was ever right and despite their mother's protests, the eldest Ishtar man would never accept the 'adopted blood' as anything more than some common houseboy. Even still, their father had never even thought of abuse— if he had, regardless, he never acted on it at least as far as Rishid could remember. Ishizu was born 3 years after Rishid was adopted.

Then, 6 years later, the twins were born.

The son their father wanted, one of his own blood, came in a pair. However, while Malik was studious and diligent, Mariku was rebellious but he was stronger. Malik was weak-hearted. He had to be protected from everything, according to their father. Malik cried easily. He laughed too much and played as if he had his entire life ahead of him. Mariku was much more antisocial and quiet and not as easily amused, but everywhere his brother went the other boy was only a few feet off. The twins were a pair. They made mischief together— really, they did everything together.

That's why he felt so horrible as he watched his father hit the younger twin for the first time.

(-)

They had been 5.

Malik had been playing with a basketball in their garage (they weren't allowed outside unless they were under strict supervision) when it had happened. Mariku was sitting on the boxes nearby, laughing as his brother miserably attempted to make a basket. He missed for what seemed like the fiftieth time, though this time the ball hit the shelves near Mariku's head. The child had easily avoided the few falling objects, laughing even harder, as his twin pouted. That was when it happened— Malik had barely the time to blink. A black and yellow snake shot out from its hiding place between the boxes and attached directly to his ankle.

With a cry, the boy fell backwards, desperately trying to get the snake off. Mariku was at immediate attention, rushing over to his twin and tugging the snake away (he'd later remember being scared to death it was a notorious cobra) and attended to the bleeding. While using the bottom of his robe to soak up the blood, he multi-tasked by trying to sooth his sobbing brother.

He got no further when the door was flung open and their father stormed in, furious.

Their father grabbed Malik first by the collar of his shirt and then the hand moved to grab his hair, screaming at him.

Why was he crying? Why was there blood on the floor and on Mariku? What was all the noise?

Question after question, shaking the child's head as he yelled louder and louder.

Speak up. Respond. Disrespectful brat. Stop that blubbering.

Mariku was desperately tugging and pulling on his father's robe, crying for him to stop. He was hurting him. They had just been playing. Please. There was a snake. He got bit. He might die. Stop hurting him.

Their father either didn't listen or didn't care. (Was it both? Mariku no longer remembered.) In one quick motion, he hit Malik as hard as he could. Mariku was frozen.

He hit him again. Another time. Once more.

Eventually their father let go of the boy's head as he tossed the child to the side like a rag, Malik skidding until he stopped— limp on the ground, coughing and spluttering. The younger twin was still crying, choking on sobs of both pure terror and pain. He clutched his head with both arms— even breathing hurt, as he lay on his side, unable to move.

The beating wasn't done. Next his father was at his side, kicking him and continuing to shout.

Mariku wasn't sure when he himself started crying, or when their mother finally came in horrified. She had scooped Malik into her arms as she blocked the blows, soothing him before such obscenities shot from her mouth that it made even their father look shocked. She hugged her youngest so tightly to her chest Mariku remembered being worried she'd suffocate him— but Malik's shoulders were still violently shaking, his entire body racked with sobs.

(-)

Weeks passed.

The cuts were still healing over. He had broken a rib too, he was sure. The physical scars remained, just like the emotional ones, although those were still fresh and bleeding unlike the ones on his skin. Mariku couldn't get closer than two feet without his brother screaming silently, having a panic attack, and whispering pleas to spare him. He'd calm down when, finally, he'd realize it was his brother—but Mariku couldn't touch him. Should his twin have let him hold him or touch his shoulder in the first place anyway, it would've been painful. His tanned skin was adorned tactlessly with bruises.

(Mariku still hated himself for doing nothing.)

The beatings didn't stop. Mariku got his fair share of hits protecting his twin, and eventually they became routine to him. He never cried in front of the man, only after he left would the tears fall because, again, he knew he failed as a big brother. He'd hug Malik as tight as could, without hurting him, and hold him. They'd cry together, promise to run away.

"But we can't leave our siblings and mother— he'll kill them."

Mariku knew he was right.

"If he found you and me, he'd kill us."

And Malik knew he was right.

They did the next best thing: they'd run to Rishid, crying (sometimes figuratively, sometimes literally) for help. The teenage boy would frown, looking incredibly upset, before tending to their wounds in a gentle manner that Mariku often thought a father should actually have. He told Rishid that, once, when their adoptive brother treated a wound on his cheek.

"I wish you were our father."

The tanned male had been so surprised, he stopped immediately what he was doing. He withdrew the rag, staring at Mariku as if the boy would then burst out laughing saying it was a joke. He never did. The elder twin just stood there, silent and serious, staring at his older brother with an unreadable expression. Malik, sitting beside him, nodded a few times with a murmured "uh-huh" in between.

"Why?" Rishid had asked. He frowned. He didn't understand. "I know your father is not the best—" 'What an understatement.' "—but he did take me in like his own." 'Except not really.' "He treats mother well." 'Most of the time.'

Mariku pouted, arms crossed, as his brother placed a bandage on his cheek. "No. He's mean. You'd be better. You are better." He nodded a few times, just like his brother had done. Rishid sighed, but couldn't help the soft smile that came onto his face.

"Little brother," he began gently, "I appreciate the sentiment, but…" He chuckled a bit, trailing off at the two boys' confused faces. "Sentiment means a thought or feeling, like an opinion." He paused before continuing. "I appreciate it, but all I am is your brother… if even that."

Malik piped up this time, swinging his legs as he leaned forward, looking upset. "But Rishid! I still think father is lying!"

"Lying?" Rishid repeatedly carefully. "About what, and what makes you think that?"

"You must be our brother." Malik frowned. "You look so much like mother and sister. Father is lying. You must be our big brother," he repeated with defiance.

Rishid was, once again, rendered speechless. He looked like their mother? 'Father' (more so it seemed like he should just call him Master as it felt like all he was to the man was a simple slave) always spat how ugly he was, that he was ashamed to have even an adopted son of such looks. Their mother was a lovely lady, despite often hiding her face in traditional garbs and scarves. Their sister? A spitting image.

The young man couldn't even begin to articulate a response to show his gratitude at the statement. Instead, without warning, he wrapped his arms around both twins, murmuring "thank you, little brothers" as he did. The twins didn't know exactly what was going on, but smiled and hugged him back, laughing.

Rishid protected the twins as much as he could, even more than before because of that. Often times he got the brunt of the force, having once even gotten whipped in the face just to shield one or the other from one more hit. It made their father so furious, but their mother always came in at the right moment. He'd stop. She'd scream and yell. He'd yell back. Sometimes she'd get hit too, but she didn't care. Until he left the room, she didn't move from in front of her children.

It went on that way for 2 long years, until something went wrong.

(-)

They noticed slowly that she had been quieter. She bruised easier. She was tired often. Eventually, she was bed-ridden. Rishid and Ishizu often forced the twins from her side, claiming their mother needed rest. Eventually, even their father realized something was wrong— but he couldn't do anything about it until the bruises healed. A week later, they did. And a week and a day later, it was too late. No one knew where she had been going, but she passed out on the floor. She got taken to the hospital but it was no use— their mother, their only true protector, died.

Somewhere in between all that, 3 more years passed. Mariku wasn't sure exactly where the timeline fell, but he knew what happened next. The twins were 10 now.

(-)

Mariku remembered his fight with Ishizu— it was over Malik hiding in their room once more. He did that a lot nowadays, but Ishizu didn't seem to comprehend it. "You don't understand," Mariku seethed. "You don't and you never will, you always turned a blind eye!"

"You're speaking nonsense," the teenager frowned. She was only 16 but it was no secret she acted mature and wise beyond her years. "I understand he's grieving, she was my mother as well—"

"That's not the only reason he's upset!" Mariku screamed. A moment after he did, he immediately regret it as he slapped a hand over his mouth. If he was too loud…

He suddenly felt sick.

Without another word, he flew into his room and shut the door (quietly) behind him. Ishizu continued to stand there, stunned. She murmured something to herself, shaking her head. Had she said something wrong? Even if not, she was worried. Rapping her knuckles against the door, she called: "Little brother, I'm sorry. I don't precisely know what I said, but—"

She stopped, hearing yelling from down the hall. She turned slowly, concentrating with confused curiosity (if there was such a thing) on the noise, leaning her hand on the door.

Snap. Snap. Thump. Another shout. A murmur. One more scream. Snap. Snap. Snap.

Ishizu was about to investigate when she felt her weight give way, the door opening. She quickly recovered and was about to chide her brother for being so reckless, but the chance wasn't given. Like a bullet, Mariku, with Malik in tow, was racing down the hallway as fast as he could and towards the basement. Ishizu gasped, surprised.

"W-wait! What are you…?" She followed after, worried. "Don't run, father will—!"

"RISHID!" Sounds of feet racing down the stairs followed.

"R-Rishid … wake up… Big brother?"

Everything else happened so fast it was hard for even Ishizu to recall it clearly. She remembered carefully running down the stairs with skirt hiked up, worried her brother had fallen down them, only to be met with a sight she had never seen.

(-)

Her father stood over a collapsed Rishid, the whip in his hand and blood on his face, robe— and, well, everywhere else. Her elder brother's back was ripped with scars and blood; he was on the floor, splayed halfway on his stomach and halfway sideways, but either way unmoving.

The twins had rushed to his side, Malik desperately shaking his brother who wasn't giving any sign of response. Mariku was tugging his robe, pleading for him to wake up. The attacker (no, he was a monster— a big monster, like an ogre) himself just stood there, glaring furiously down at Rishid as if the blonde twins weren't even there.

"F-father…" Ishizu whispered, frozen on the stairs. "What happened? Father! What happened to Rishid? Did… Did you do this to him?"

That snapped him out of it.

Darkened and furious eyes turned to glare at her. "He deserved it, the impudent disgrace!" He shouted, "I never wanted him in this house, but your mother insisted against my will because she was positive she could not have children! My dream was thoroughly destroyed; I wanted someone I could entrust the family secrets to. A boy of my own blood." He spat on the ground, missing Rishid but barely. "What did I get when your mother finally got pregnant by a miracle of the Gods? You."

That was pure hatred in his voice. Hate? He hated her? She had never imagined the intensity of hidden fury her father bore towards her.

"You," he continued, seething, "who were exactly like your mother." He paused, taking his glare now to the twins who were just clinging now to their more than likely dead brother. "I finally got my heir at least," he hissed. "Granted it was in the form of two insolent boys… one can't even stand a harmless snake bite, and another who has too much rebellion in him."

Ishizu was suddenly furious.

It all made sense— why they always seemed to be out of bandages and rubbing alcohol; the reasons the twins always looked so beat up when they claimed they had "just rough-housed too much" and got hurt; why their mother was always going in and out of the rooms, keeping a steady eye on their father and the twins.

Everything made sense.

"You've been hurting my little brothers," she fumed, taking a dangerous step forward. "You hurt Rishid now. Had you been abusing mother, as well?"

"Silence!" Their father shouted back, turning angrily towards her. The whip was slowly being raised, but the teenager paid no mind. "How dare you speak to me in such a manner!"

"How dare you hurt my siblings!" Ishizu retorted without missing a beat, her anger quickly rising. She took a stance, fists clenching. She wasn't sure what exactly she planned on doing, her mind was too livid to form much of a plan if one at all. "You have no right to do such a th—"

The whip cracked.

Ishizu didn't even realize it was coming towards her until she felt it slash across her cheek. It felt like the sting of a knife and it split the skin right open. She let out a cry, grasping her cheek and stumbling back. Eventually, she collapsed to her knees, dizzy. She was slightly uneasy around blood, something she had never really told any of her family except for their mother. After all, it never really came up.

Staring at her shaking hand, coated in that thick red liquid, she silently wished the cut wouldn't leave a scar. Her other hand was still covering her cheek, more so in pain rather than trying to stop the blood flow. Terrified blue eyes looked up at her father, who was beginning to approach her again. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the next hit that never came… but sounded.

(-)

Ishizu opened her eyes tentatively before gasping. Mariku had shot in front of her, taking the hit against his raised forearm. "Leave Ishizu alone!" the elder twin snapped, ignoring the searing pain emitting from his arm. "Don't hurt her!"

Ishizu looked even more scared now, her blue eyes widenening. "N-no! Mariku!" She crawled forward and weakly attempted to push him out of the way. Instead, she only managed to grab at the robe he wore (Mariku remembered hating that thing everyone was forced to wear, and was very grateful when he got to change out of it) and clutch it. "Get out of the way, please!"

"I won't move, sister! Let go!" He shouted before he whipped his head back around to glare at their father. "Don't touch her!"

Mariku remembered every little detail of the events that followed. He would be the only one to recall everything so precisely— for his siblings, it was an incredibly lacking memory.

(-)

His father was hitting him. He managed to block most of the blows with his arms but a few got past and hit his chest or his side. Only one hit his face, cutting open his lower jaw. Mariku had picked something up (admittedly, he couldn't remember what, only that it was slender, long, and seemed like a good weapon) and was fighting back viciously. Ishizu was screaming for them to stop. She couldn't move, though— all the blood, from both her own cheek and the wounds of the rest of her family, had paralyzed her in fear.

Rishid woke up, groggy but vaguely aware. He didn't move. He laid there, eyes attempting to focus. Malik, who was still behind him, hadn't noticed because his attention was focused solely on his twin and his father fighting.

His father elbowed and hit Mariku so hard he went flying, slamming against the wall that he felt the world daze and go unfocused. He didn't pass out, but he whimpered, head throbbing— it had hit solid concrete, and he was positive it was bleeding (later he'd be thankful that somehow he had nothing more than a concussion). Violet eyes attempted to stay transfixed on his father, but the double-image was making it hard. He heard Ishizu screaming his name, crying out for him.

Look out. Oh gods, Mariku. Move. Watch out. Please.

That was when it happened. Something inside Malik was boiling the entire time and now the water was over the pot's rim— he snapped.

Mariku, despite being unfocused, could still remember exactly what then unfolded.

(-)

Malik saw a knife. It had been on the ground, dropped during Mariku and their father's struggle. It had been the one he hurt the elder twin and Rishid with just moments ago. Without further thought, Malik grabbed it and launched himself at the enemy, only seeing red. Eventually, that was all everyone else saw too… although it was in a much different sense.

Stab. Stab. Scream. Shout. Tear. Rip. Slam.

Malik was on the ground, their father's foot on his neck. He was pressing down and the boy was slowly reddening in his face, before he weakly thrust the knife back. It hit the man's leg and, with a cry, he stumbled back.

Malik got up.

Shouting. Stab. Cry. Scream. Wail. Hit. Smack. Stab.

A pause.

Slump.

Pant. Pant. Pant.

Clatter.

The knife fell to the floor once more.

(-)

Mariku remembered finally gaining clarity back, only to see a site he never wanted to again though it'd be sure to haunt his nightmares. Malik, splattered with blood like an explosion of paint, stood over their unmoving (mutilated) father's body. Not all of the blood was their father's that was drenching the floor, but it was mostly his. The panting child just stood there, the cuts on his arms, face, chest, and legs dribbling the same liquid that stained the room. His hair was over his eyes and Mariku could see the other twin's entire body shaking. After a moment, he realized why as Malik lifted his head.

He was crying.

He looked terrified, quietly stammering out: "What… Oh Ra… w-what… d-d-d…" He choked on tears, stumbling back before clumsily falling over right onto his backside. He scooted backwards, trembling and continuing absent murmurs. Rishid, who was now fully aware and beginning to get up, almost fell over when Malik backed into him. The blonde screamed and flung around, shielding his face. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Over and over again he screamed, sobbing, as if he was positive Rishid was going to hurt him next.

The man frowned, taking in slowly everything around him—he knew he'd get nowhere attempting to calm Malik down now.

Ishizu had her hand over her mouth. She looked ill. Mariku was against a wall, panting, with his head back absently. He had closed his eyes, but they were open now and looking over to Rishid. He somehow managed a thin smile. Rishid didn't return it. He looked back to Malik, who was slowly getting quieter. He realized why as the blonde's eyes slipped closed and he fell over, limp on the ground.

He had passed out.

Mariku's memory became fuzzy after that.

He remembered closing his eyes one more time, listening as Rishid started to shout his siblings' names, and the next thing he knew he was hearing loud sirens. Some other voices made their way to his ears and the world spun a bit as his eyes attempted to open slightly. Was he being lifted?

He was suddenly tired. He closed his eyes.

* * *

><p>Now there were bright lights, and lots of white when he opened them again.<p>

"Ishtar Mariku. You're awake."

Mariku had looked over after staring at the ceiling for a moment longer, confused to see a man he had never seen before standing by his bed— scruffy grey hair, wearing white and black and glasses and a clipboard in his hand. He looked extremely weird to Mariku, who rarely saw anyone outside of his family and the occasional passerby. The stranger smiled and it was then Mariku made the snap judgment the man must've worked here. Now that he thought of it, he was dressed similar to the person who had been by his mother's side in the hospital.

Oh.

So that was a doctor or a nurse. He was in the hospital, then?

"I'm glad you've finally opened your eyes," the stranger continued. "Your siblings are all fine. Ishtar Ishizu and Rishid, correct?"

He expected Mariku to look happy. Instead, he looked absolutely and utterly mortified and ready to jump out of the bed as he clenched the sheets. "N-no, no, just them? Why just them? Why didn't you say his name too, wh-why, is he—"

"Mariku!"

The blonde trailed off pathetically, whimpering, and looked to the door where Ishizu had burst through. She looked relieved. Rishid followed in after her, smiling softly— he didn't look just relieved, he looked completely exhausted but unspeakably happy. "S-sister," Mariku whispered, trembling and extending his arms weakly to her.

She took the hint and rushed over, embracing him tightly as she could while minding his wounds. She herself hadn't been hurt too badly— she only had a band-aid on her face that would probably not scar. Rishid was worse for the wear than she. He had a bandage around his head, right forearm and left bicep, and band-aids on his cheeks and jaw. He had bandages around his chest and back too, but his loose hanging tan t-shirt currently hid it (it was also then Mariku noticed that his brother was, indeed, wearing pants instead of their "traditional garb").

"We were so worried," Ishizu murmured into his ear, sighing in another burst of relief. She was trying not to break down crying again. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I never noticed before, little brother."

Mariku just shook his head. He didn't care at the moment.

"I-Ishizu … Is … is fa—" He cut himself off with a whimper, hiding his face in his sister's shoulder. He couldn't even say the word. At Ishizu's silence, and Rishid's head turning, Mariku had to assume that their father was, indeed, never coming back. Was he particularly sad about this? Not in the least, if he was going to be brutally honest. After all, what had that man ever done well for them? He only regretted that—

Wait. Mariku gasped, shoving Ishizu back to look at her wondering eyes. "M-Malik!" He exclaimed. For that brief moment, he had forgotten about the reason for his earlier panic attack. "Malik! What about… Is he… d-… d…" His lip quivered and he bit it to repress the sob that might have forced its way through.

Rishid intercepted this time. "He's fine, little brother. He simply passed out from a blood loss," He explained and smiled, as Mariku's face seemed to melt into relief.

"… I'm glad," Mariku whispered, feeling tears prick his eyes though this time in comfort and contentedness. "But…" He paused, glancing awkwardly at the man he assumed to be either his nurse or his doctor. "Er, s-sir, may I speak with my siblings in privacy please?"

"Of course. I just wanted to check on you, seeing as you were awake." The doctor (Mariku was positive of that now) smiled again and left, closing the door quietly behind him. Mariku waited, as if to see if he'd come back in, before looking at Ishizu worriedly.

"Malik … he really did …" Mariku paused. He had to force the word out; it was a self-challenge. "He really did kill father, then? It wasn't a dream?" The strength in his voice surprised even himself. Rishid only nodded solemnly. "… I see. Brother, Sister… Will Malik be taken away?"

"I'm not sure, little brother," Ishizu whispered, finally finding her voice. "We're going to tell the authorities exactly what happened—"

"It was self-defense!" Mariku suddenly screamed, tears threatening to pour out from his eyes as he gripped the bed sheet tightly. "It was self-defense, he had to! F-father was going to… he would've… all of us… and h-h-he would've…" He trailed off, the choked sob finally escaping his lips. Ishizu rushed over and took him back into her arms.

"Brother, I promise," she whispered. "We will do everything we can to protect Malik."

The police questioned them all later, once individually and once all together. Ishizu kept true to her word. She recapped the murder (Mariku soon grew to hate that word in the association with self-defense), while Rishid provided every inch of back-story— from the first time he saw his father hit his mother to every single time the twins came running to him for help. Mariku would pipe in every so often while showing a scar or adding in a few details of the actual beatings. The police would just nod and one would write things down, although the man just listening looked terribly upset.

He voiced his opinion. "Boy, how old are you?"

"Ten, sir."

"How long ago did this start?" The man asked. He seemed to be a bit older than the one taking notes.

Mariku didn't even need to think. "Five years ago." His face was stone blank. "He hit Malik first." The twin sounded unemotional, but his siblings could see the eyes were raging with anger like a storm. "He broke his rib. I don't think it healed right." He paused, as if thinking. "After that, he hit us both."

The man frowned. LANIC read his nametag on his label. That was a weird name. "Did he do it for no reason? The first time, I mean."

Mariku shrugged, glancing off into the distance. "Malik was throwing the basketball around in the garage. It made a lot of noise, I guess. Father didn't like that. He never did." The violet eyes returned to the to officer. "Malik was crying. He gotten bit by a snake… Father slammed the door open and grabbed Malik's hair…" His voice wavered for just a moment. "I just stood there. He shook him… screaming… he got even angrier when Malik kept crying. He saw the blood… I got some blood on me when I was helping Malik with his wound…" Again, the small voice faltered.

Rishid nodded solemnly, absently, and looked off to the side. The officers waited patiently for the child to continue. Finally, Mariku cleared his throat and began again.

"He smacked him and hit him and then he threw him. Then he ran and kicked him, oh god, I tried to stop him he wouldn't listen!" Mariku's voice was steadily rising as he spoke faster. "I tugged on his robe but he didn't stop, I screamed but he didn't oh Ra… then mother came in… she shouted at him. Cradled Malik. Father yelled, mother yelled back… but he stopped hurting us, just for that day, but oh gods Malik was so badly hurt… oh Ra…" He finally calmed down, digging his hands into his hair before covering his face. "That man…" He muttered something than sounded like 'thank the Gods' and 'no sorrow here.' The officer couldn't tell.

Officer Lanic just frowned again. 'Awful— just completely, utterly, and atrociously awful. How could anyone treat their own children so badly?' "I see," he finally murmured.

The officer ("JAHNN" read his nametag— another weird name, were they foreign? They sort of looked it) writing things down looked over at Lanic, as if mentally asking 'do you believe this?' because, it was true: kids lied and in a "supposed abuse" story it wasn't unusual… but Lanic knew this kid couldn't, from the very moment he walked into that room.

He had been in the business for years, he'd seen many real abuse cases. The eyes didn't betray, the scars backed it up, and quick crime-scene sweep was proving it. Blood had been found in all the places Rishid said they would. Mariku detailed the items he and Malik had been hit with. The pain as Mariku choked out that story was real, true, and deeply cut just like their scars. They had questioned each of them individually before coming into the room and the stories were consistent down to the very last detail.

It was all ungodly true. Honestly, it made them both sick to their stomach. How did they live with such a monster for all those years? Better yet, how did they survive?

Lanic questioned Mariku more, tentatively gathering information. A lot of it was for "police reports" he had said. Mariku didn't know what that meant, but went along with it anyway. After every grueling detail had been revealed (and a nurse took pictures of all their wounds, also for the "report"), Mariku asked if they would take Malik away. His voice was quiet, far off, and terrified.

"I don't want to be separated from him. Please, sir. Please… If he has to be taken away, please can I go too?"

Jahnn wasn't sure. Lanic only smiled and tapped a finger to his head with a wink. "I can see how it would be self-defense and that is how I will write it down in my report— we'll have to hope the evidence backs it up, but I don't have a doubt that it won't." 'Maybe it went too far, but how can we really tell?' "It was self-defense. I'm sure the court will see it that way, as well. I promise I will do everything I can to make sure he doesn't go anywhere but home with you."

Ishizu started crying. Rishid did his best to soothe her, but he was smiling slightly. There was hope. Mariku was laughing— he was laughing and crying. He had never felt so relieved in his life.

Eventually, the policemen left. Rishid was of a legal age (just barely— he was thanking the Gods silently for that one), so he said he'd claim guardianship. I'll start the paperwork after this settles down, he decided. Ishizu agreed. Mariku was just happy because they wouldn't be separated, there would be no foster home, and Malik wouldn't be taken away to jail (did kids go to jail? Their dad said so, but was it true? Who knew). That was good. That was really good. Actually, it was great. Grand. Amazing. Awesome. Other good words to express happiness. He couldn't think of any more.

They had been able to visit Malik, although the nurse had placed Mariku in a wheelchair despite protests. They didn't want him walking. They said he wasn't steady. The boy, of course, tried to prove them wrong by taking giant and striding steps (dragging the IV with him)— the plan failed as he soon realized he was extremely dizzy and couldn't walk without the throbbing pain in his legs and neck. He accepted the wheel chair grudgingly. He refused to be pushed, and rolled himself along. That was an adventure in itself.

Malik wasn't awake yet when they got there.

Mariku would've crawled into the bed with his twin had the nurse not reprimanded him, telling him that he'd knock the IV cords of not only himself but of his twin, as well. The young Egyptian was angry, but situated himself directly next to his twin's bed and plopped his upper body onto it using his arms as a pillow. He smiled at the serene face of his brother and just stared, willing him to wake up.

The doctor came in a few times to check in on the family. Ishizu and Rishid took turns sleeping and watching the two boys, but eventually they both ended up knocked out cold in the chair, slumbering peacefully for the first time in months. Mariku rarely left his side— only when he had to. 'You need a test done.' 'Your IV's empty. Let's go swap it out.' 'How about food from the cafeteria?' 'I think we should switch out those bandages.' Other things like that. Pointless things, in his opinion (except food, he was okay with that).

Eventually, the nurses figured out it would be easier to just move the twins into a double room. Mariku was happy. He still didn't leave his brother's side.

Days passed.

When Malik started to stir, the cry of excitement from Mariku almost gave Ishizu a heart attack. "He's waking up! Sister! Brother! He's opening his eyes, look! Look!"

Tanned eyelids slowly drew up, revealing hazy violet orbs beneath them. A few times they blinked, adjusting, before carefully Malik moved his head over to the side— where he met the joyous eyes of his twin. He opened his mouth to say his name, but nothing but a cracked sigh came out. His throat hurt too much to speak. He settled on smiling and groping for his brother's hand, which was quickly grabbed and squeezed. Malik couldn't squeeze back.

The doctor came in. He asked how Malik was doing. The Egyptian paused, frowning, and looked at his brother. He mouthed something, something that Mariku clearly understood, before the elder twin turned to the doctor. "He's thirsty," the twin announced with a nod (looking back on it, Mariku was sure a lot of that was because of their father almost crushing his trachea). "He can't talk."

They got him some water. Eventually, Malik managed to croak out two words: "What happened?"

The doctor fell silent. Ishizu quickly turned away, choking back a sob as she slapped a hand to her mouth. Rishid went stone-faced. Mariku looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Brother," Malik continued hoarsely. He sounded desperate, and his eyes reflected the upsetting feeling. "Where is father? What happened? I don't remember anything…"

'He doesn't remember? He doesn't remember…' Mariku re-played the words over and over again in his head. "You don't remember?" A frown.

"No…" the younger Egyptian admitted quietly. "Should I? Brother, where is father?"

Before anyone else could speak, Mariku jumped in after quickly making his decision. "Malik… He's… Father, he's dead."

Malik looked shocked. "He's… what? Oh Gods…" He covered his mouth weakly with the hand Mariku wasn't grasping tightly. He muttered something the other boy couldn't understand before, uneasily, looking at his twin. "How…?"

Ishizu almost spoke up, but Mariku beat her to it. "He killed himself." The lie slid easily off— almost too easily— but they couldn't let him know; they just couldn't. If they told him the truth, it would devastate him. He'd constantly think of himself a killer, and one that killed his own father at that. How would he ever overcome that guilt? Malik probably wouldn't. He was fragile. Mariku would not let that happen. He would not let his twin suffer.

'Spin a fairytale, spin a lie, won't explain and won't try…'

Malik was silent.

His twin wasn't done. "He… attacked us. Just as Rishid was recovering, and I was getting my vision back, I saw him do it. You did, too. He stabbed himself." Mariku shook his head slowly. Rishid stared at the back of the boy's skull, mouth a thin line— he wasn't sure whether he felt relieved that Malik seemed to be believing the other twin, or angered that they were going to let their brother live a lie. "I think you blocked it out. I'm sorry," he finally whispered after a moment.

"… I'm not," Malik replied. He threw his head back and laughed— it was coarse and sounded raspy, but it was a laugh. Silently, Mariku had to wonder just how long it had been since he'd heard that. Malik only smiled, still laughing before, after a moment, he whispered: "We're free. Do you get that? We're free."

They really weren't, though. They may have been freed of one monster, but another had been created: the lie of their father's death would haunt them for years.

(-)

Mariku would often have nightmares. He'd scream and later berate himself for it. He had to lie and tell Malik he didn't remember what they were about. Malik would have them too. He honestly and truly never remembered them— but all he knew was that they involved their father. After a year or so, the nightmares became so normal and routine that they didn't bother Mariku any longer. He would sleep right through them and simply awaken in a bad mood. Malik, if he had them still as well, never spoke about them. Eventually, they assumed the nightmares for the other twin had vanished.

The scars never went away. They were bitter reminders everyday of what hell they had been through. The Ishtar siblings stayed in that home, though they never so much as touched the basement door. They sold everything that reminded them of their father, except for one picture of their entire family. Mariku had broken the glass near their father's face. Ishizu, for once, didn't mind his destructive habit showing through. Usually, the frame was turned over and lying flat and down.

Malik ended up losing most mobility in his left hand from that fateful day. Their father had sliced his forearm open, vertically, and managed to hit one of the muscles badly. He could close it and bend it, although his grip left much to be desired. It was the one that Mariku ended up holding a lot, to calm his brother down when he'd go into a panic attack. Life went on. Slowly, hard, and difficult… but life went on.

Eventually, they decided they had to move. It had been 6 years. The house was like their scars— a bitter reminder of something they refused to want or remember. With what they owned, the siblings packed everything up and decided to begin an entirely new life in an entirely new country.

Ishizu heard that Japan was a nice place.

* * *

><p>A-all right! Well! Er, I'm guessing that's that.<p>

Thanks for sticking around with me, guys, and... I'm really sorry OTL

hate-mail me as you will asjhdak o/ ;;;;


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